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An Idyl of the Sun 



Other Poems. 



ORRIN CEDESMAN STEVENS. 




HOLYOKE, Mass. 

Griffitli, Axtell & Cady Compan\' 



I«QI 




o^l'^ 



5^3^^^ 



COPYRmUT, 1891, 

BY O. C. STEVENS. 



CONTENTS. 















PAGE. 


An Idyl of the Sun . • 9 


The Common Man . 














32 


The Music of Graves 














3;-. 


The Christmas Table 














36 


The Two Discoveries 














I>7 


The Valkyries 














:i!) 


The Dead Day 














41 


The Laii-iiard . 














42 


The Two Claimants 














oO 


The Last Prayer 














r.H 


The Wonderful Worknici 


1 












t'.7 


The Tramp 














84 


Democracy 














!)() 


The Subject Spirit . 














'.Ill 


The Whole Truth . 














10,-. 


Love in tlie Lijjht . 














124 


The Lost Clue 














128 


Against the AVind . 














131 


A Prayer to Morning 














i;!3 


The Model 














i;;.-) 


An Arrowhead 














. 138 


Peace is but Weakness o 


C Spi 


■it 










140 


Morning Song 














. 141 


Tlie l'.ridegronin 














, 142 



6 


CONTEXTS. 












PAGK. 


The Lost FloM'er . 


. U-t 


A Homely Face 














146 


The Leader 














147 


The Permanent 














149 


The Veil . 














151 


Tlie South Winds. 












ir.2 


The Blind Bird 












154 


Song 














155 


Lament . 














15(J 


Misgivings 














157 


An Apologue 














15« 


No Beauty There 














160 


To H. M. A. . 














167 


To J. E. L. 














ICS 


The Ilnnner 














169 


( >ld New- Year's Day 












170 


Brazil .... 












171 


The Talking Tests tlie Song 












172 


Opposed .... 












17:'. 


Midsummer 












174 


Between the Kartli and Sun 












175 


My Songstress 












177 


Love's Retrospect . 












17S 


To a Nolile Woman 












ISO 


White Clover . 












18:5 


Second C'hildliood 












184 


Love Sonnet . 












185 


To 












1,S(; 


Sleep's Stained (Uass 












189 


Memory .... 












19:5 


Tlie rnf(|ual Lovers 














1!m; 



An Idyl of the Sun 

AND 

OTHER POEMS. 



ERRATA. 

Page 12, line 7, for again look read look again. 

Page 46, line 2, for reflection read refection. 

Page 73, line 6, for I'esiiia read beside. 

Page 97, line 14, for i,''c'^/<;\vj- read j,''<?^/^/(?j-jr. 

Page 98, line 8, for i/isonted xQ^d disordered. 

Page 105, line 15, for has read hast. 

Page 143, line 4, omit //(fv after all. 

Page 210, line rr, after thine insert easy. 



AN IDYL OF THE SUN. 



Ardo. Above the white crown of our sacred tree, 

Whose roots are watered by the seven streams 

Which issue from one fount, let us retire ; 

And let the radiance of its luminous leaves, 

Which furnish light to earth, afford us shade. 

And we will leave unaided, for awhile, 

Our dear companions of the forceful rites, 

And mingle new with simpler, ancient joys. — 

See ! as I kiss thy loving lips again. 

That new, red rose hang quivering on its stalk, 

Before the window of that far earth home. 

TiNTA. And I will think of thee, and breathe thy name. 

To give it deeper fragrance. 

Ardo. I will take thy hand 

In mine, and hold it long and restfully, 

To make the flower cling firmly to its stem. 

Until some lover asks it as a mate 

To his beloved's heart. 

TiNTA. I give thee thanks, 

O lover, husband, prince, that thou dost yet 

Give thought to me, and still the joy dost find, 



10 AN^ ID YL OF THE SUN. 

Which thou didst put into my heart on earth. 

For when I see those seven chromatic bands — 

The symbols of the seven solar powers — 

So clear upon thy radiant white arm, 

And then look down upon mine own, to find 

One only shining dimly in its place, 

I sorrow inconsolably ; and would 

That all the glories which beset mine eyes 

Were changed for store of common, earthly tears, 

Which may not be found here. Still dost thou stoop. 

As ever thou hast done, to give me love. 

Ardo. Tinta, there is no high or low to hearts ! 

They ever rock upon the same sea-level. 

Feel the same tides, and in the frequent calms. 

Moor their light keels with rapture side by side. 

Speak not of tears ; in all this wizard world 

There is no craftsman who can make a tear 1 

Nor in the universe, might there be found 

Essence so fine, hue so immaculate 

(Not even if we sought amid the dreams 

And vision-daring purposes of gods) 

As might be moulded into fitting tears 

For thy pure eyes. Think nevermore of grief 1 

( Irief is a cripple who can never move, 

Save when supported by two subject hearts, 

One on each side. Ah, sweet, apostate soul, 

One cannot mourn without another's aid ; 

And I alone might aid thee and 1 will not. 



AN //)YL OF Tllf-: SUN. 11 

Again I say, I love thee ! be thou glad ! 

TiNTA. Oh, that word love, when spoken by thy lips, 

Doth shape itself into a trumpet's curves. 

Through which the voice of some far deity 

1 )oth storm the last earth rampart of my heart. 

And take it prisoner to a deathless thrall ! » 

Now, y?/',f/ I look upon thee without fear, 

Since thou didst shore for me, with thine own breast, 

The boundless stream which bore me hitherward ; 

Whereon the earth danced like a withered leaf. 

And all the stars seemed whirling molecules 

Of phosphorescent frenzy. Now, I dare 

To note how thou art changed ; how thy new life 

Seems like a crystal sheath upon the old. 

Hiding no loving line, but adding to it. 

It is as though thine older, lesser form. 

Compressed by muscle bands, which grooved the arms, 

Girt close the struggling waist, and tightened down 

The mighty shoulders' buoyancy. 

Had lightly, when the corded thongs were cut. 

By force of its divine, expansive energy. 

Sprung up to its balked stature, and revealed 

Its natural majesty all unrestrained. 

As now I gaze, thy broad, bright bosom seems 

A golden stream, deep in whose lighted depths. 

Are imaged clearly all the godlike deeds 

And tender favors of o'erhanging arms. 

With shadowy, dim shapes associate. 



12 • AN IDVr. OF THE SUN. 

Of future fondness brooding in tliy heart. 

Upon its peaceful currents are mine eyes 

Borne on, with wonder, to the whirlpool face, 

Which draws mine own into its blissful charm. 

Here, in a spirit trance, I travel round and round. 

Tapering the large delight down to a point. 

That I may ever again look away. 

O speech divine ! that, like a cleansing storm, 

Doth sweep from seraph lips all vestiges 

Of faulty human uses, and leaves bare 

The prints of love alone. Thy lips are changed, 

Yet are the likeness of the lips I kissed 

With freedom on the earth. So sentient 

In every point thy light-absorbing face, 

Vision doth never weary thy calm eyes. 

Hut leaves them fresh for forming loving looks : 

Else might I never look upon thee thus. 

Ardo. Remembrest thou, dear Tinta, how, on earth, 

A little thing grew larger when advanced 

Close to the eyes ? and canst thou now believe 

That, the vast spaces of material things 

Dispelled between us, and thy very self 

Brought near my spiritual vision, there is room 

For my glad sight to pass thy broadened beauty ? 

Nay then ! it stops in thee, and is filled up, 

Contented, to its farthest boundaries ! 

Thinkest thou that the diver finds the pearl 

As lovely in its shady place, as when 



./.\' IDYL OF THE SUX. 13 

The sun shall dry the moistened gem in his hand, 

Above the water? Shall not the obscure, 

But matchless fabrics of night's labratories, 

When set in morning's open galleries, 

Extract new wonder from our stricken sight? 

O thou who wert the fairest thing on earth ! 

By bathing in our iridescent streams, 

Thou hast imparted to thy gathered grace 

The mermaid's dripping beauty. Scarce I dare 

To look upon one place, so dangerous 

Its violent splendor to my careless eyes. 

Relaxed and resting ; but, secure, I turn 

Them to thine own, which lie like peaceful isles, 

Twinned in a sea of glory, and now stilled 

By the soft wavelets of thy soothing lids 

To an enchanted peace. How vast the space 

From those young worlds to the old grizzled earth 

Toward which they turn ! 

TiNi'A. My wonder cannot cease, 

When I look down upon the earth, and see 

How changed she seems. See now, how dull she is ! 

As she doth blindly stagger on between 

Those close and cousinly divinities, 

'1 wilight and Dawn. How earnestly they strive 

To rouse the memories of an earlier life 

Of star-like energy ! See, how the wind 

Doth beat her heavy temples, and the scourge 

Of lightning's passion strikes her senseless back ! 



U AN IDYL OF THE SUN. 

Even the sleeping Titan in her heart 

Starts vainly in her dreams, and fitfully 

Doth struggle, though unconscious ! IJut, alas ! 

The stupor lingers. Now she dumbly turns, 

Until the sunrise warms the very spot 

Where we first loved. There must he feeling there ! 

Ardo. O sunrise of the earth, what is thy pain ! 

How dost thou mourn for all that thou dost miss, 

I'^ach morning, from the open treasuries 

Heaped by the last day's potent industry ! 

What traveler of the shining, silvery road 

Of life and love, when he falls headlong down 

The frequent chasms dug by Night and Sleep, 

Drops nothing from his bruised and aching hand ? 

O how may one fit on the broken stalk 

( )f yesterday, new flowers of this day's happiness? 

How may his span of love reach far as that of life, 

\\'hen darkness hinders not the one, but coils 

The other back upon weak memories ? 

Ever, on earth, is day's love-ripened fruit 

Pecked by the Vulture Night ! 

TiNTA But one who loves, 

\\\\\ sleep so light, and keep her heart so white. 

That no night birds shall find there any perch ; 

And day shall add itself to day, and love 

Stretch far and flawless. 

Ardo. Yes, when that one be as thou. 

But yet, how blind and weak we were, at best ! 



AN IDYL OF THE SUN. 15 

How hidden from ourselves our spiritualities ! 
And how we aided our own hindrances ! 
Often, when thou didst offer me, with smiles, 
Thy right hand's treasures, I would seize the left ; 
Or when the very symbol of thy soul 
Sat on thy silent lips, mine own have broke 
The holy thing with missile words ; and when 
Thy solar-working heart built round mine own 
Halos to bless it, 1 have broken through. 
Oft in the white flower of thy love I saw 
Only the earth honey ; from thy purest word. 
Have turned to kiss the lip's red stain, and thus 
Defrauded th}- sweet heart. And many times 
Those star songs that do sound alone through lips 
Of fortunate moments, have been fiercely scorned. 
For thi^se coarse strains, which only may be struck 
From strings of sensuous days. 
TiXTA. But, even then 

Thou lovedst me as now ; 'twas ever plain : 
Error's tortuous path led ever to that goal. 
The widening circles in the troubled deeps 
Sprung from a golden stone. Pain cold not pluck 
The one white feather from her raven wings ; 
And every horrifying thing was wreathed 
With visions of thy name. And many times 
The iron ball of inconsiderate speech, 
IJy the swift fervor of love's afterthought, 
Was melted ere it struck ; while, frequently, 



k; .-Yyv my I. of the sua''. 

I wronged thee with mistaken estimates 

Of thine own worth. That mighty will of thine 

Seemed often but the body's urgency, 

The downward plunging of the waterfall, 

Instead of the strong geyser's living leap : 

Vet would I see the rainbow of thy love 

Upon it, and feared not. 

Ardo. Still blind were we, 

And blind remain our fellows of the earth. 

Vet naught gropes there but man ; the flying cloud 

Keeps well its path at midnight ; the lithe stream 

Makes its long practiced leap from rock to rock, 

Whqn darkness drapes with doul)t the changing way 

As surely as when sunlight leads ; each flower 

Finds its own place upon the populous stalk. 

And fills the secret channels of the air 

With flowing fragrance ; and the whole earth's 

Dense barriers turn not the emerald streams, 

Which hasten to the fountains of the trees ; 

But man must tremblingly and in the dark 

Contest his spiritual footings ; be content 

To touch, with blind and baffled finger-tips. 

Only some earthly thing his spirit-mate 

Has worn upon her heart ; to wander round 

And round the shrine wherein she lonely kneels 

I3ut find no entrance door on an\' side ; 

Nor hear the name of that divinity 

She worships dail\ in her whispered prayer. 



AN IDYL 01^ THE SUN. 17 

His senses seem but sheaths of some divine 

And vibrant energies ; hke promontories, 

^\'hich jut into the tleeps of the divine, 

Are the vast cloud-heaps o'er his stormy thought, 

Wherein his spirit-voice is faintly heard. 

Like muffled thunders vaguely terrible : — 

The cold, clay handles of the infinite, 

Alone meet everywhere his own clay hand ! 

TiNTA. But love, the subtle, incondensable, 

Doth flow about him, like an atmosphere ; 

And golden-winged birds fly evermore 

From soul to soul, with mystic messages 

Not wholly written in unmeaning signs. 

( ) husband of the two-fold unity ! 

Had I not learned, while yet upon the earth, . 

The outline of thine inner worthiness 

And guessed the beauty of thy spirit face. 

Could I have traced thee here? But when lone Death, 

With strange inversion of official power. 

Did come and kill the whole material world, 

To make thee li\e the plainer in my heart ; 

Saw 1 not there the very image of thyself? — 

Thy luminous f.ice turned hither, and thy hand 

Stretched backward after mine ? And when I walked 

Across the earthly ruin Death had made. 

And followed thee in space, no need to ask : 

"Where went the spirit stronger than the earth, 

With solar flight and backward turninir face?" 



IS LV fDYL OF THE SUN. 

No need to seek the signal plumes let fall 
From thy flame wings along the unknown way ! 
Thy distant goal 1 knew before 1 died ; 
And I but turned my longing eyes that way, 
And, on the currents of etherial life, 
Did simply float again into thine arms. 

Ardo. O sweetest drift that ever comforted 
Those awful tides I Wonder of woman's love ! 
That it had power to guide thee safely here. 
And charm the deeps to render up their charge, 
While still such rayless voids delay their currents, — 
vSuch drear, dead spaces ! Oh 1 for this one hour, 
Would 1 live myriads of darkened years 
Upon the earth, in caverns unexplored 
Hy all save Night, and where the baflled sight 
Withers away in her black floating sand ; 
Or be enclosed in countless folds of rock. 
Bent for the purpose : or be ages whirled 
Upon the trackless, unprogressing wheel 
Of some air vortex I Bright were that deep cave. 
Where I might tunnel through the stagnant years 
To find thy light ! Unfeared the rocky cell 
Which opened at thy feet ! And there were peace 
Within the whirlpool, if the last revolve 
Should draw thee in ! 

It is a grace unmatched 
In all Infinity's love-laborings. 
That our superior rites are not allowed to one ; 



AN IDYL OF THE SUX. 19 

That only two, whose equal heart-beats strike 

At the same moment, and evoke a sound 

From out the slender scepter of our King, 

Like his own holy music, can perform 

Those ministrations nearest to his throne. 

But thy true heart doth part its longing beat, 

Beneath its polished silver bells, to catch 

The single sound of mine between 

Its clasping chimes, and keep it sweetly-safe, 

In happy unison. I offer thanks ! 

That one alone dares not the highest joys ; 

But two together, with their arms entwined, 

And fingers clasped to brace the fragile heart, 

Can only venture them, and cautiously. 

'Tis said that there are orbs that restless roam 

Through alien and unrecognizing worlds. 

Inhabited by single, self-enveloped souls, 

Who ever lie amid the fields' cold blanks. 

Beneath a starless wreck of low, grey sky, 

And contemplate their mighty, passive limbs. 

Their useless arms, and breasts untenanted. 

And hear the lone heart beat its solemn knell 

Upon the trembling ground ; and they are bound 

To stay in that eternal solitude ; 

For they are powerless to summon there 

P^ven a spectral life of phantasy 

'lb share that boundless emptiness. 

And when, sometimes, despairing they would thrust 



20 AN IDYL OF THE SUN. 

The naked blade of vision, yet unfleshed 
In the warm body of material things, 
Back to its scabbard of the inner life, 
They stop, appalled, before that awful view 
Of darkened ruins, like a dead star's face. 
Of rayless peaks and chasm? probeless, black, 
And mists of misery enshrouding all. 
O I am glad that I may ever live. 
Where many spirits, in the neighboring space. 
Pass my weak thought along from point to point. 
And speed its travels to the unseen (iod ! — 
May linger in the. midst of this abounding life, 
^^'hich crowds the sky up to its noblest arch, 
And bids it call upon the watchful stars 
To closer stand, and cross their upright spears, 
Lest something should escape their care. 
TiNTA. O Ardo, as thou spokest of those souls 
So far from (iod, because they are alone, 
It seemed as though some smallest stalk of fear. 
Long withered in the heart, had suddenly 
Shot forth a shivering, black flower, that cast 
A shadow on its open fount of peace. 
O let me lay my head upon thy breast 
That I may not forget thee for the length 
Of one brief moment ! Now I feel secure. 
And can again commune unfrighted with thee. 

When from this dear and sovereign seat of vision, 
All visible things seem subject to my sight, 



AN IDYL Oh THE SUN. 21 

I am not chiefly glad that I can look 
So far away through this transparent air, 
And 'cross these shimmering fields of rainbow-harvests, 
Where flowers seem only as expanded gems 
With stems of lengthened pearl : that I can see 
Unto the farthest verge of this sphere opulent. 
Whereon, mayhap, some busy sister stands 
And dips her ever dripping cup of flexile gold 
Into the nearest spring, to quench the thirst 
Of some exhausted pilgrim from a world 
\\'hose founts are slowly failing ; nor, in sooth, 
That my strong sight flies on beyond all spheres 
Like this, to where a world lies spread — 
As I may guess by those broad, wondrous rays 
Which match the mountain peaks upon our own- — 
So bright, so limitless, that all these orbs 
Which form our luminous community, 
Are but dim tapers at her massive gates ; 
Nor is this sight most dear, that it will go 
Down and still down — so far, the falling stars 
Have never reached the place — and dimly trace 
The shadowy boundaries of those orbless souls, 
Whose being is so large, so unrestrained. 
That their least deed is vaster than our sun, 
And no world yet is builded strong enough 
To bear the beating of their strenuous hearts, 
{ )r broad enough to make a worthy stage 
For their exploits : but mostly give I praise, 



22 A A' IDYL OF THE SUA'. 

That, whether thy heart turns in my love's breezes, 
Or the pure juices of my sun-life's passion 
Kail in the chalice of thy waiting wish, 
Or miss it, I do see and know the truth. 
And if thy spirit dons its shield of reverent awe, 
And turneth inward to the seven Powers 
That lie, concentric, round the fiery globe 
Wherein our nameless and invisible King 
Dwells in his long creative loneliness, 
I know, and cease to babble of the things 
Which make the gladness of our outward life. 
Ardo. Wondrous clairvoyancy of woman's love ! 
And chief of wonders, that such regal gift 
Should be indentured to a single heart, 
And that heart mine ! Oh, my clear eyes, 
That seemed up-rounded on the earth, to let 
The fairest things slip off them imobser\'ed. 
And now impression of supernal lives 
Take from all sides ! — though they may plainly see 
How Heat and Light are wedded in one ray, 
To be the sun's resplendent almoners ; 
May see the indraft of that unillumined dust — 
Attrition's tribute from those ravaged worlds 
\\'here that fliir twain has been again divorced — 
Though I may look far through our several i)lains 
Of life down to that glowing, central sphere 
Which is our sovereign's home, and see thereon 
Bright flashes of imperfect images, 



.^.V WVr. OF THE SUN. 

Fire hints and burning, fleeting flush of shades^ — 

As if the god within, had, in a careless hour, 

Thought fitfufly of himself, and jeopardizetl 

The awful secret of his shrouded life — 

Vet how thy love is interblent with mine, — 

That see I not. The mystic tie was wrought 

Ere light was given to this shuttle heart, 

Or by the artificer's shading hand 

\\'as cunningly concealed. But if to-day 

Thy love hath such a power, what will it be 

When it may work in all the sexeu hues? 

Now, as I speak, thy loving thought doth print 

Upon the subtle substance of this air — 

So sensitive to lovers — all the host 

Of upstored graces fully perfectetl. 

And filmy marvels of inceptive art ; 

So that I seem the only citizen 

Of Love's etherial, blissful capital, 

Built by benignant spell upon the peaks 

Of highest moments buoyed aloft by joy ; 

But lest 1 lose my way in those bright streets, 

Do thou unmake them by a gentle thought 

Alien to Ari>o. Wherefore tell me now, 

What thou wilt do the rest of this long day 

To further train thy finely-working hand ? 

TiNTA. First, will I take a stealthy, potent charm 

I 'Uto a heart upon the earth unloved, 

'I'hat it shall so bewilder, daze and draw 



24 AN TDYL OF- r//^ SUN. 

Some random love-prospector, haply near, 

That he shall see the flitting, coaxing shapes 

Which I commingle with its diamond deeps. 

And, after, I will let selected rays 

Pass freely through my open, love-clear licarl, 

And with accretion of resistless fire, 

Burn into nothingness the barriers 

Between attracted souls. And what wilt thou? 

.\rdo. I will instruct Desire to circle round thy head, 

lo take his course from thine own gentle thor.ght, 

And wing an even flight with its white plumes ; 

.'\nd I will strive to-day and every day, 

To so discumber mine own heavy life 

Of every stain of guilt or selfish thought, 

And so assist my brothers at like work, 

That this light-loaded orb may lightly vault 

Into a higher place, and joyously 

Expand, unhindereci, to a nobler curve, 

And make more room for seraphs ; constantly 

\N'ill I look through the armories of the sun. 

Confer with foremost brethren, closely search 

Our lunrinous archives' every crowded leaf. 

And down into the dimmest places of the heart 

Urge on the quest — study the faintest signs ; 

Yea, 1 will even waken Prophecy ! 

To learn the secret of a larger ray, 

P)y which our gifts might grow to greater size. 

TiNJ'A. Then, husband, we will ever join our hands 



AN IDYL QF THE SUX. 

To fashion every gift ; thou shalt bestow 

Its central core and amplitude of form, 

And 1 will borrow of my purest joy, 

To add the outward beauty. But, awhile, 

Let us still tarry here ; soon, very soon, 

The double yolk of this seclusion's shell 

Shall alter to the broad, unresting wings 

Of common life ; and while I keep my head 

A little longer on this breast still mine, 

'1 "ell me the story thou hast promised oft 

To tell me when my heart was well prepared. 

Akiio. As thou (lesirest -, listen : Long years ago, 

Before the oklest ministrant now here 

Had his bright birth ui)on some distant world, 

'Tis said a splendid apparition streamed 

Into our lightning-vaporous atmosphere, 

Still shining with puisant light undimmed 

When very near. It was a spirit born 

On that far orb incontinent of light, 

Whose fullness overflows in circling bands 

( )f flaming energy, which make it seem 

A prison-star built round with walls of fire. 

His name was Yivero — for it is still preserved 

liehind the prison bars of whitest lips 

Whose whispered utterance seems its very ghost — 

And as he clove his way with slow, spent wings 

And foce that reeked with toil of his long flight — 

'Twas but a passing, starr\ mist u]3on it — 



26 --4 A' IDYL OF TJ/E SU.\'. 

The startled watchers from their airy heights 
Forgot their oifice, could but gaze in awe, 
As did the whole sun people silently. 
No being of such mien, none clad as he, 
Had ever come before unto the sun ; 
His stature etiualled easily the height 
Of that strange pillar of translucent gold 
Some earlier race did build upon our sphere, 
Which we have seen at sunrise from the earth ; 
His wings spread out like islands of the sea. 
Pulsed by the sea into a crimson flush ; 
No shadow-moth had ever found a perch 
Upon his radiant foce, which blinding shone,' 
As if the light, o'erflowing from the eyes. 
Suffused it with a glamor of the grace 
Which we are taught to gather in the soul 
For inner vision ; downward from the chin, 
The mighty veins of his unhindered neck 
Were sluices round of lightning-driven fire ; 
And all the vast recumbence of his form 
Seemed like a valley plucked from paradise. 
With all its mighty^ silver tentacles 
Still clinging to its undismembered mass, 
And million-tinted herbage undisturbed. 

As near he came the poison-stricken air. 
Which till that day had been a moteless sheen, 
Writhed with convulsions of a mother's pangs, 
Brought forth from quick gestations unperceived 



AN ID YI. Ob THE SUN. 

Her mistimed, unimagined progeny ; 
And storms did ravage all the solar world, 
Tearing away from its immortal mines, 
And from its altar-flames and sid:)tle flowers, 
And from the faces of the seraph saints, 
A drift of shining dust, which floated long 
Above the land. 

And when the sun's first floor 
Bended beneath that alien angel's foot, 
A faintness fell upon its countless founts, — 
A dimness on its ever-living lights. 
Our provinces u])on the distant earth 
And other planetary worlds adjoined — 
Which now, with broad bands centrally enclasi)ed, 
Showeth their easy bondage — by ilegrees, 
Surrendered their vast territories 
Unto the white autochthons of the poles — 
]'>er in wait to seize their ancient lands — 
Because their far and shining capital 
Suffered a strange oppression, felt the first 
Abasement of an evil si)irit's light. 

Gracious and kind were ^'ivero's salutes ; 
( )ur people soon were cheated of their fears, 
And did admit him to their sacred rites 
And simple fellowship, if that be such, 
Where Truth doth burn her veil and Error wears 
. Its ravished wraith. 

Infected time passed on : 



28 AiV rOVr. OF THE SUN. 

The lofty Vivero had, one by one, 

Acquired the use of all the seven Powers, 

And bore the circling emblem on his arm. 

Proudly, but vaguel)', spoke he of the jxist, 

Of Titan strifes and angel heroisms; 

But from the fatal fabric of his speech, 

His spell-instructed listeners e\er built 

Visions of stars despoiled and temjjles sacked, 

Of shadowy forms dislirabed and s])heres unrolled 

In plains of e\en, uninspired light, 

To break the weak delusion that a (lod 

Lived in their secret cores. Put, day by day, 

Did \'ivero's heaven-challenging desire 

Draw him still inward towards the flawless home 

Of our benignant Lord : until, at last, 

He passed beyond the fartliest boundary 

Of reverent life, and stood unharmed and proud 

Within the regions of bold blasphemy. 

Pehind, the liorror of the watching hosts 

Closed like a parted wave : before him shone 

The star of stars unchanged : onward he went, 

Until the lengthened silence, which is niglit 

Upon the sun, began : but still advanced 

That strong adventurer. The new day came, 

Hut slow and feeblv, as 'twere stricken old, 

And could not bear the daring enterprise 

r)evolved upon it ; low the waters sank 

In all the springs ; the currents of the streams 



AN IDYL OF THE SUN. 29 

Ceased flowing, and the soulful flowers strewn 
I'pon their banks, down to the water's edge 
Drooped i)laintivel\ ; and all the sun race moved 
With languid steps and sad abased head. 
As though their strength was gone, and hope l)cside. 
Still watching towards the close of that wan day 
With desecrated eyes and stilled hearts. 
They saw that arch-intruder pause, and turn 
( )nc moment towards them with a scornful smile. 
Then spread his glorious wings anil raise his hands 
That were enfeoffed with sinful sovereignty. 
And, like a winged avalanche in air, 
Hiul himself straight upon the awful goal. 
( )h ! then as if to spare the o'erstrained sight, 
.\ wonder happeneil for that gazing host ; 
For scarcely had the impious Vivero 
Chosen his course, and fixed his force^d aim. — 
\\'hen lo ! he vanished like the thinnest flake 
( )f tenuous snow upon a sea of fire. 

I.cjng days they watched in vain for any sign ; 
They knew not whether he did reach and pierce 
The glowing cover of that orbic shrine, 
( )r had been quenched forever from the world. 

( )ne morn, when Music's circuit was again 
Complete, and truant Peace once more restrained 
\\ ithin the magic line, they saw on high, 
.\bove their rescued world, a small, dark cloud, 
A thing not seen before in solar skies ; 



30 AN IDYL OF THE SUN. 

And as it floated o'er their radiant heads, 

There shone upon it seven blended rings 

Of sacred colors, of such wondrous size, 

They knew they were the same that \^ivero 

Had worn upon his arm. J'hey watched tiic cloud 

Fall slowly down into the nether deeps, 

Bearing that pure, immortal emblem still 

Upon its folds, until it sank entombed 

Into that darkened world we called the moon, 

When we surveyed it from the earth ; and still 

That fadeless circlet may be often seen 

Coiled round that starry grave in largest woe 

Or, shredless, groping in the wastes of storms. 

TiNTA. () 'tis a wondrous tale I ^\'hat other orb 

Hath such a history that its excess, 

Which liveth only in remembered speech, 

Holds stories such as this ? Poor Vivero ! 

Were it no wrong to our beloved Lord, 

How 1 could pity thee ! But gods are stern 

To guilt of arrogance : and the\' forgive 

Their erring people any fault but this. 

Tell me, dear teacher, shall we ever sec 
That being we adore ? — 1 mean not here, 
Nor soon, but shall we ei^rr see our Lord? 
In some far time, and from some distant sphere, 
If that inviolate veil were drawn away. 
Should we dare look, with furtive, timid eyes, 
Downward upon him ? 



A.y inVL OF T//K SUA'. 31 

Ardo. Nay, a nearer place 

Crave I for thee and me I Be reverent, 
IJnt fear thou not, nor overstretch thine awe ; 
For I believe that our great Sovereign's shield 
Doth slowlv waste between the crossing heat 
Of his own central and our outward zeal ; 
That it doth furnish stuff for our good deeds, 
And when all good is done, will fade awa}' 
And leave revealed the perfect one within, 
Who henceforth shall remain as one of us. 

Hut now, refreshed, we must once more to work ; — 
Put on thy sandals of embalmed flame ; 
Kind up again the loosened amber filaments 
Of thine abundant hair, lest thou appear 
Too glorious amongst thine elder sisters : 
Let go the hidden rudder of thine eyes, 
Which makes them ever keep their course towards me ; 
And I will pluck Love's ])haros from mine own, 
Which thou art sailing by. And now those eyes 
Too long reduced to visions of one soul, 
Again must gauge themselves to multitudes ; 
And from the verges of dispersion's deeps, 
Strain after gods. Now take my hand and come ; 
We will away to my most precious spring, 
And thou shalt drink one draught from mine own hand. 
And there together will we, singing, mix 
Such potent liquor for the earth's dry cup, 
That none shall be there more athirst for joy, 
And all be thence informed of our sweet love. 



THE COMMON MAN. 



IJehokl ! he daily does the world's wide will. 
Makes what is good, and masters what is ill ; 
Lives not oblivious of earth's blessed ways, 
Nor clogs his progress with disordered days. 

His strength is as the braces of the sky. 
And as the salt sea's breath his bravery ; 
His own worth knows he and its true intents, 
Although he counts not its constituents. 

His arms are round and full with deeds unwrought, 
His shoulders mighty and abased by nought ; 
For they can bear, nor press upon the heart, 
What cowards cast there with eluding art. 

Justice and mercy do in him concur ; 

His truth is as the day's diameter ; 

And Peace between his eyes doth have her seat. 

Like to a queen between two handmaids sweet. 

What man has ever done he doeth now — 
Be it to forge, to build, to sow or plow — 
And round the forefront of his last act shine 
The cumulate beauties of the long design. 



THE COMMON MAN. 3:', 

Not in the new alone doth beauty sleep, 
For olden things a higher import keep ; 
That stream is purest which doth longest flow, 
And what is best will aye the farthest go. 

The common man is slow, sees not afar ; 
Must keep his eyes where'er his full hands are ; 
Enjoys the common hues of near-by things ; 
Stops at the blue of mystic quiverings. 

His goals are near, and one the sun each day 
1 )rops warm with life and not too far away ; 
But ere the night he grasps the bauble sweet, 
And its sun-warmth is blent with his heart's heat. 

Vet not the slave of despot day is he, 

Hut the free servant of the Century ; 

And though she wears her veil upon her face, 

He sometimes feels her hand's imperial grace. 

He sees the measure of his lasting might 
In every work his hand concludes aright ; 
And each result his widening sjMrit frees ; — 
The houses he has built hold but his families. 

His lips have simple songs, while Music's art 
Doth only still the groves about his heart ; 
That when her chosen chantress sings, at last. 
No rival songs shall 'gainst that strain be cast. 



34 THE COMMON MAN. 

Not from rare moments' tenuous chalices, 
Flame-filled and flashing with infinities, 
But from a common cup of cumbrous clay 
Drinks he the lasting joys of his long day. 

No fairies light upon his steps attend. 

But giant, heavy-handed forms, that bend 

And pour for him thick liquids, amber-clear, 

Slow drip of sweets long stored from some dream year. 

Yet there is set within his heavy frame 

A secret truth which hath on earth no name ; 

And though his Ups shall speak wise things and true, 

His words have one side dark and give no clew. 

He is the keeper of all permanencies ; 

On his acceptance wait discoveries ; — 

Though one should force a gift from Heaven's height, 

The common man alone can keep it bright. 

He has long leisure, yet he wastes no time ; 
He waxes old, but still enjoys his prime ; 
And what another in despair has sought. 
He finds, at last, without one troublous thought. 

Behold ! he daily does the world's wide will ; 
Makes what is good, and masters what is ill ; 
And when the race has reached its earthly span, 
The common shall appear the perfect man. 



THE MUSIC OF GRAVES. 



There never was heart of a man, 

But a song in it longed to be sung ; 
Nor ever a brain that began, 

But a gUmmer of truth was there flung. 
O woe, to the hps that were mute ! 

O woe, for the false words said ! 
For with naught but the grave for a lute 

True song must now come from the dead. 

O come to this new-made grave. 

And quicken its great, dull strings ; 
That the rigid lips which the death-peace crave 

May loosen the music that clings. 
O call to the wind and the rain ! 

O call to the heat or the frost ! 
To gather the whispers of pain, 

Lest the song of the dead should be lost. 



THE CHRISTMAS TABLE. 



Now bring the ample table out, 
And have the cloth well laid ; 
And load the board, if so thou canst, 
With what thyself hast made ; 
That every guest 
Shall find the best 
For which his heart has prayed. 

Then set thou, at the table's heatl, 

A chair of sable state ; 
And let each one, with reverence say 
"Come Christ, here is no hate ;" 
And the 1 )enied, 
The Crucified, 
Shall leave His cross, though late. 

But set thou, at the table's foot, 

A chair of equal grace ; 
That the new Christ of perfect life 
May see, with shining face ; 
See, from some height, 
Its spotless white, 
And come and take his place. 



THE TWO DISCOVHRIES, 



I 
'Twas with such eyes 

As every mortal hath, 
When clear surprise 

Lightens the path, 
That she beheld 

His spirit rise : — 
That she did see 

Its august size 
Matching nobility, 

'Twas only as 
The others saw 

The man he was, 
That she, with awe. 

Beheld Love pass. 

II 

'Twas with the sight 
The few possess 

Who see the right. 
Who know to bless ; 

That she beheld, 



THE TWO DISCOVERIES. 

After the glory waned, 
The glory still : — 

That there remained, 
After the thrill, 

The conscious heart 
To know and claim, 

From his great deed apart, 
The /;/(/;/ in shame. 
'Twas not what others see 

That now she saw, — 
Splendor and majesty. 

Things without flaw ; 
But, with a finer sight 

Than takes the swift delight. 
When in full view, 

Grand Love goes by ; 
She subtly knew 

Plain Love who waited nigh. 



THE VALKYRIES. 



Directors of the launchbd death ! 

Receivers of the latest breath 1 
How did ye choose the guests for Odin's hall ? 
On whom were your first favors wont to fall ? 

- Who'er it be that answereth, 
Say why ye chose a king and why his thrall. 

Loved ye the most who slew the most ? 

Was that fierce one your chosen ghost, 
Whose battle axe always the deepest went ; — 
Whose bloody spear was aye the farthest sent ? 

Who, being dead, still made his boast, 
And cheered the weary flight with fury yet unspent? 

Had ye no thought for him whose blade 
Shone like a thing that hath no shade. 
And firmer temper took at every blow, 
From subtle currents which therewith did flow ; 

And not alone the hand obeyed, 
But struck most righteously, the guilty foe ? 

And spared ye any in that time 
Of brutal deed, of blood and grime, 



40 THE VALKYRIES. 

For that they were beloved by ladies fair, 

And sent sweet songs across the trumpet's blare? 

Nay ! seemed it not a^crime, 
To hinder those whose loves were all their care? 

How choose ye now your sacred dead? — 
Where once was war is peace instead. 
Have your own hearts not gathered newer clews, 
Seeing how earthly maids the living choose ? 

Are not your white lips turned more red? 
Have not your eyes been purged with sweeter views? 

Yea ! hath not Odin, your great Sire, 

Been tutored to a new desire ? 
Hath not some signal from a human hand 
Startled the warders of that ghostly land, 

That now a new and softer fire 
They burn, with reverence, all ;dong the strand? 



THE DEAD DAY. 



I made a tryst with a coming day ; 
A day yet far away ; 
And I said : 
"I will meet thee, () day, on the hills ! 

When thy glory the east overfills. 
-i,et thy sisters before thee regret 1 

And thy sisters behind thee despair ! 
For I'll bring thee a joy which the world cannot fret ; 
I will show thee the worth which the heavens declare ; 
A perfect heart will I bear." 

But the red of her coming turned gray ; 
For I was far away ; 
And she said : 
"Let me die with the" longing that kills ; 

Which through the dead heart ever thrills !" 
Then upon the low bier was she set, 
And borne through the shivering air, 
By her maidens all darksome anci wet ; 
While wails of defeat were still echoing there, 
And a broken heart was in prayer. 



THE LAGGARD. 



So swift passed by him the people, so seldom looked 

they around, 
They saw not the face of the laggard, whose feet on the 

covetous ground 
Found rest and a lingering lightness and delight as of 

lasting good, 
And slower and slower proceeded until it seemed that 

he stood. 
But hurried the many onward in broken masses and 

groups, 
And the hollows and empty spaces of their frenzy s 

serpent-loops 
Seemed spectral hearts of excitement with their fever 

and force pulsed out ; 
Their birth the death of a moment, their death the birth 

of a shout. 
At ease the loiterer followed, untouched by the strug- 
gling throng, 
For multitudes feel a repulsion from souls that are 

silent and strong ; 
And nothing is half so defended as the simple peace of 

the heart, 



THE LAGGARD. 43 

Since tumult can never adventure save where it already 

is part. 
He moved in the lull of their strivings, in the realms 

of relapse and spent breath, 
\\'here the forces wasted of mortals return again unto 

death ; 
And his progress was that of a planet with a new 

immortal light. 
Which sails with a steadfast glory through the wrecks 

of a stellar night. 
Attrition ravaged their faces and only as shifting sands 
Were the changes ever upon them — Confusion alone 

commands ; 
But his had the glow of creation, and its motions all 

were combined 
To picture the single endeavor of the sovereign, single 

mind ; 
And every angel of beauty some gift on that face did lay. 
For up from his heart no demon ever rose to drive 

it away. 
Their hope was a self-shivered mirror, each piece 

showed a different face ; 
While his was a casket made ready for the gem that 

awaited its place. 
The bows of their hearts, like to galleys, were beaked 

for the struggles of hate, 
And sundered and sank each pleasure before they had 

taken its freight ; 



44 THE LAGGARD. 

His heart was a delicate life-boat with a roseate sail 

unfurled, 
And saving one joy undiminished it sailed the whole 

of the world. 
Their desire was a passionate craving to feel all the 

forces that are, 
So long as was left on their spirits one spot for sensation 

to scar ; 
While to fathom the single impression and its subtle 

folds unwind. 
Was enough for his truer longing, enough for his single 

mind ; 
For he knew that his spacious being, unloosed to its 

farthest curve. 
Lacked room for that one revelation, though he held it 

all in reserve. 
The future to them was a straight thread spun from the 

mists of the past. 
Which, miserly, marked out before them the way which 

they traveled so fast ; 
And the present had no existence, or seemed, past any 

dispute, 
But the little line that lapses 'tween the raised and 

lowered foot ; 
While time to the leal-hearted laggard had no dispersion 

of soul. 
Could only, starlike, around him its widening circles 

roll; 



THE LAGGARD. 46 

And the growing plane of its orbit was the present unto 

'him, 
\\'here Ufe in a histrous glory stretched calmly away 
to its rim. 

But the running line of their hasting, like the chain in 

the deep, cool well, 
At last drew speech from the silence wherein such 

spirits dwell ; 
And turning about to the nearest he showed them the 

peace of his face, 
x'lnd by the power of his purpose checked the speed of 

their fevered pace. 
Then suddenly ended their ravings, with the shock of a 

sharp surprise, 
As a storm might halt in its fury with quick reverence 

in its eyes, 
If right in its path there shimmered, with no watchmen 

stationed around, 
A colony of glorious angels just arrived to inhabit the 

ground. 
And these are the words he uttered unto such as lingered 

anear, 
Ama/ed and afraid and attracted and half unwilling 

to hear. 
"Why haste ye on Change's worn pinions to the eyry 

of lusting and madness ? 
Why float in the storm-winds of laughter to the dreary 

expanses of sadness ? 



46 THE LAGGARD. 

Do ye have the deep heavens for your hasting, as the 

birds in their joyous projection? 
Are the white doves of Heaven abandoned, with their 

burdens of mystic reflection, 
To the ckitch of the hawk or the falcon or some other 

felonious capture, 
While the heart that is looking and longing shall miss of 

its infinite rapture? 
Can the racers of commonest craving run as fast as the 

coursers etherial 
Which the heart sends afar in its calmness, and guideth 

with reins immaterial? 
Ye but follow false birds of illusion from the nests of 

your own living treasures ; 
And ye gather from falsehood's beguilement that which 

falsehood's memory measures. 
Ye are following vanishing pictures and dancing shadows 

and splendors 
By a mock sun scornfully scattered, when the spirit, 

unwitting, surrenders 
Both the earth and the sky of its being, where the forces 

creative are hidden ; 
And the thing ye might form into beauty, unto hideous 

shapes shall be bidden. 
Like as golden wheels ye are whirling o'er highways 

poluted by passion, 
And the mud-drops ever thrown forward seem to you of 

an exquisite fashion ; — 



THE LAGGARD. 47 

Were they drops from the car of old Neptune ere the 

waters of ocean were bitter, 
Or a shower from a cloudlet begotten where the mists 

with divinity glitter, 
Ye could not more eager pursue them or struggle the 

harder to catch them ; 
And the things that with them are mingled to illumine 

and visibly match them, 
Are the floating sparkles and relics of your thought's 

first pure creations, 
Comminuted and mangled in folly and left for the 

laughter of nations. 
But what is the gain of your hasting? — all your craving 

and envious malice ? 
Doth not violence spill without scruple the sweets of the 

spiritual chalice ? 
Yet ally yourselves with the whirlwind, let riot fecundate 

the spirit. 
And the thing that is brought forth in frenzy, though ye 

shuddering strive not to rear it, 
Shall for ages ravage your beings, uprooting and smiting 

and rending, 
Until there is left a mere desert, and death or dark 

horror impending. 
But if what ye are seeking is precious, and it seemeth 

dearer and dearer. 
Will the smoked glass succor your vision? or your 

breath on the pane make it clearer? 



48 THE LAGGARD. 

Have ye fear that some others should gather your 

(lehghts ere your hearts have possessed them ? 
Then, in truth, were they yours by their nature, from 

the demons themselves ye could wrest them 1 
( )h 1 unseemly these struggles and racings, when to love 

is the whole that is needed ; 
Since the heart knows to carry you farther than the feet 

of man e'er proceeded. 
I)oth befit your false fury a being, who hath through the 

empyrean whitened, 
And o'erflown the sun in his s))lendor nor endured that 

his garments were brightened? 
Who hath dared to the hazardous borders of the regions 

starless and rangeless, 
Where the breezes so friendly to flying lie as dead at the 

feet of the Changeless ? 
Fear ye now to repose in the ether which is still in your 

spirits' recesses, 
And if lulled to the stillness of Heaven, with the passage 

of angels still blesses ? 
Do ye fear, unless always it's flashing, that the heart's 

fiery lightnings shall wither. 
And when summoned to shatter some darkness be too 

feeble to carry you thither? 
But, behold ! how the passionate patience of the flower 

by the roadside there growing. 
In the colorless air finds and fixes the shy sweets that 

forever are flowing : 



THE LAGGARD. 49 

Let us sit down there in the coohiess and surround it in 

reverent wonder ; 
We can love that flower together and might fail to so 

love what is yonder : 
We shall hear if we peacefully listen, as they cordialh' 

signal each other, 
'Cross the dreary spaces of clamor, in such tones as 

nothing can smother, 
The bright band of immaculate lovers, with a sweet and 

solemn insistence, 
Moulding ever to trumpeting actions the clear metal of 

perfect existence. 
And at night shall we tent us securely in the strength 

which belongs to endurance, 
And the light of the undying spirit shall burn for the 

pilgrim's assurance : 
And shall frighten the forces of darkness, while against 

all the tempest's assailing, 
l-'rom the heart's still recesses shall issue counter-blasts 

of command never failing ; 
And soon shall the lover-guest find us, — shall approach 

and the sleepers awaken ; 
And the fear in the heart still abiding, from its loosened 

beats shall be shaken. 



THE TWO CLAIMANTS. 



Two si)irits late were poised above this land, — 

Mother of Nations, Spirit of the World ; 

And like a mist across the heavens' sheen 

Spread the effect of counter-working wills. 

For not agreement's sweet convergences 

To some effulgent embouchure in air. 

Had brought these mighty beings face to face ; 

But discord's hidden snare at crossing ways. 

A skyey winter grew about the spot. 

And the chilled light fell through the boreal air, 

In ghostly flakes which drifted round their feet. 

And she, the Mother of Nations called, did hold 
A chart of States before her, and across 
The folding glory of her vivid dress — 
I,ess ample than the other's though it seemed — 
Flickered dark lines that made a ghastly web, 
And seemed reflections of the shifting boundaries 
Which circumscribed her daughters' earthly realms. 
Her eyes also seemed weary with the chase 
Of those elusive lines which were as seams 
Upon the mended vestments of the earth. 
And when she spoke, the crystal waves of speech 



THE TWO CLAIMANTS. 51 

Seemed broken into many tinted arcs 

And sweet deceitful rings, to fit the ear 

Reserved for charm of tender confidence ; 

But in her full and uncurbed majesty, 

Stood her companion there, and her clear voice 

Pinfolded worlds within its fluent curves, 

E'en as an Iris-bow bent to a circle. 

And, listening, I heard the lesser Power 
First urge her thought and thus proclaim her right : 
"Mine and my children's still remains the earth I 
I was here /tjV of all who dwell in space, 
When out from the invisible there rolled 
This emerald wonder ! Is't as nought, 
That I first felt this whirling glory draw 
My heart to unknown motions and to new desires ? — 
That its sweet airs did blow their first delights 
Across my face? or that my daring feet 
First touched the bending tips of its green turf? 
Yea ! gained I then no new prerogative — 
No lasting grace that will prevail on high — 
That gliding through its groves and following 
The coaxing current of a tuneful stream, 
I first beheld, with unapprenticed eyes. 
That riddle of the world- — that sweet surprise 
Of gods — a man ; did meet him face to face, 
And looked into his eyes — his human eyes — 
And heard his first uncertain words of love 
Unto a woman, greater mystery?" 



52 THE TWO CLA/MAXTS. 

Then answered her the strong World Spirit thus ; 

"Thy boasted right hath never been denied ; 

And, yet, methinks, thou hast asserted it, 

As though that perfect-saiHng orb had been 

A sinking wreck, and some swift aid of thine 

Had gained a ceaseless right of salvage to it. 

Vet hath thy doubtful claim been e'er allowed, — 

Opposed by none, though acquiesence made 

A grief too large for Sorrow's greatest gauge. 

What hast thou done with this vast privilege ? 

WHiat, save to weave thy web of boundaries 

Around a world designed for liberty ? 

Thou couldst not even see thy spheric prey, 

Except as it did, curve by curve, revolve 

Across thy narrow sight : thou couldst but l)e 

A slow explorer there, and, one by one, 

Inscribe the parts upon thy needful chart ; 

Or catch their outlines on thy sullied robes 

More spacious than thy narrow vision was. 

And thou didst quickly drive lorn waifs of space 

Down through the earth's clear air and through dim 

ways 
Of earthly generation to become 
Thy misbegotten offspring, and the bane 
Of man enmeshed for them I What right hadst thou 
To cut the bond of human unity, 
And put the separate ends within their hands, 
To tangle them with enmitv ? But know 



THE TWO Cf.AfMANTS. o3 

Now, for 1 s:i\' it, that thou hast done ill ! 

Thou hast outlived thy right ! To me doth fall 

Thy forfeited estate 1 Cro now, dismiss 

Thy children from their places to again 

Roam restless through blank space as yet unstrewn 

With worlds." 

Now for a long space did I hear no word, 
And then the other spoke the untried speech 
Of pain. "() States and Empires of the earth, 
Ve are my children ! slow-transformed, 
In the vast womb of Cycles, into shapes 
Which bear my image ; — ye are very fruits 
( )f \w\ maternity 1 What mother else. 
Hath reared in such alarms her progeny ? 
How in your separate and remote abodes 
Have I protected, e'er unfailingly, 
All you my nurslings ! how, from the first hour, 
Have I endeavoured to tear wholly off 
All taint of former vagrancy in space, 
And train you to the regions definite 
Of solid and enduring happiness ! 
How have T run to shield you at all times ! 
When spiteful demons have made war on you. 
What side have I left without saving guard ? 
Though they have mined the ipiiet earth and dropped 
Germs of convulsions there, to rend apart 
Your rocky fastnesses ; though they have bent 



54 THE TWO CLAIMANTS. 

The mountains to a bow, to launch at you 
Their frozen thunders, or have stamped 
The soft air hard, to hurl wide furies down 
Upon your heads ; yea, though most impiously 
They have unloosed those seizures dire of strange 
And dreadful maladies, which spread 'mongst men 
Destructive frenzies ; — yet it was my joy 
To ever be with you. But all my flights 
Around your cherished realms, have left no loops 
Of living concord which a hostile word 
Of tyrant-spirit breaks not ! Nought remains. 
But that far fellowship of space, which seems, 
To those who have but played at human love. 
Only as solitude. I cannot hold you ! 

O India who droopest so the head, 
And thickenest the air into a dusk, 
With the dark fragrance of thy favored flower, 
For mid-day dreams ; wake not for my farewell ! 
O would that I might join thee in that sleep 
Which feeds alone upon sweet memories. 
And will not pass at touch of present grief. 
Though grief should turn itself to burning suns. 

And thou Italia, who sitt'st at ease 
Upon the sun-ward side of thy vast ruins, 
And idly watchest swarms of little folk 
At play before thee ; hop'st thou still, () child, 
For future heroes to delight those eyes 



THE TWO CLAIMANTS. 

Which only shine for demigods? Nay, turn 
Thy face around and chase the mighty shades 
Who fly from thee ! Haste now, and fare thee well ! 

Farewell to thee Britania, ever young ! 
Thou who hast made a never-ending pact 
\\'ith dawn and sunset, equi-distant powers, 
To keep their heart-hues on thy face at noon ; 
Who hast put portions of thy realm far off, 
To show how easily thy regnant will 
Can leap the vast and hostile intervals, 
Or -to enjoy perpetual interchange 
Of sweet salutes with the remote — the dark — 
And train the heart to tender prophecies ; — 
Oh, boundless woe I that thou must now forsake 
These eyes and go where neither sound of voice 
Nor divination may take hold of thee. 

And now to thee Columbia, I speak. 
Sublime and dreadful offspring of mine age ! 
Thou wild, unfilial child ! Keepest thou still 
That face turned from me? Hidest it for shame 
That sorrow hath no faint impression there. 
Or art thou e'en unconscious of my voice? 
I feel a mystery of reverence 
Creep, like a vapor, o'er the lucid streams 
Of the affections, darkening their course ; 
But vague and doubting guesses of thy thought 
Haunt the vast spaces of my unfilled life. 
And bid me still to love thee, though in fear. 



56 THE TWO CLAIMANTS. 

Now let Farewell drop her dark curtain down 
Between thy secret and my auguries ; 
Yet would I, that, in some far, secret time, 
Welcome might ring that curtain up again, 
And show thee true protagonist of earth. 

Now all my children whom I have not named, 
Farewell ! farewell ! Fade, sink away ! henceforth 
Ye are but ghosts ; — wan spectres which will haunt 
All drear domains of space, and on the air 
Of that new world I soon shall go to seek. 
Work dim alarms and subtle shiverings." 

Soon as the grieving spirit ceased her plaint, 
The Spirit of the World, with pity moved, 
Spoke thus : "O erring sister, be consoled ! 
Let such a change go o'er thy sudden globe 
Of woe, as thou shalt see pass pleasantly 
Around the circles of the quickened earth. 
When I shall speak to it. Soon shalt thou see 
How shrunken man hath sore offended us, 
Who had the power to see his destiny. 
And thou shalt find new joy, when he doth turn 
His perfect face unto thee ; thou shalt know 
The beauty of a human face, when all 
The glory which has settled round the heart 
Shall rise like white flame through the east-d life. 
And pour immortal graces in the fount 
Of smiles ; when all the sun-glow drenching earth. 



THE TWO CLAIMANTS. 

And all the crimson fervors of its heart, 

Combine in fertile juices which shall feed 

No growing thing, except the flower of song, 

Which reaches ever to man's sacred lips. 

There is but one humanity ; and man — 

Yea ! every man — must have the whole of earth, 

To be himself as whole. Thou hast done ill. 

To so divide men into hostile groups. 

That each must keep his eyes fixed on they^zt', 

And no one is allowed to turn his face 

Toward the slow-shaping wonder, true Mankind, 

And force that darksome giant to disclose 

The perfect image worn upon his heart. 

Thou hast restrained their sight to vortices. 

Whose outer rim is boundary of their state. 

And all whose lessening circles end, at last, 

In the sunk centre-point of selfish appetite. 

But /will train men's vision to the curves 

Of earth, and, like a sea-fowl o'er the waves. 

Shall it, with dip and rise, fly 'cross the land ; 

And I will teach them to restore the earth 

To its first beauty, and to add their own 

Unto it ; yet will tell them that all space 

Is theirs ; and that they must so fling themselves 

Into that larger realm, and so transfuse 

It with their buoyant blessedness, that soon. 

Their little earth shall seem a flowery ball 

Which trooping spirits carry in their hands. 



THE LAST PRAYER. 



To the bare summit of a wooded hill, 

Close to the church whose altars he had served 

The years since manhood had dethroned the gods 

Of pagan infancy, went heavily 

An old priest, sorrowful of heart and sore 

With frequent recoil of unanswered prayer. 

There, for a long time, stood he silently, 

With eyes that turned them many times around 

The circling scope of sky, as if they wound 

Some light coil of the heart's expectancy 

Round the included world to prison it, 

Or hold it for his leisure's after-search. 

At length, with tearful face upraised, he spoke. 

" God, I have waited with still lips, for fear 
Mine own words might irreverently invade 
The chambers of mine ear, and claim the space 
Thine own would share with none, unless divine. 
Now speak, I pray Thee, lest mine ear do feed 
So long on silence that no sound again 
Have power to waken it ! 

How many years 
Have but the wasted echoes of Thy voice 



THE LAST PRAYER. 59 

Sufficed me ! For how many voiceless years, 

Have nought but misty cloudlets of the far 

And thunderous waterfall of speech divine, 

Floated the dumb void through of dreariness ! 

How has my thin hair whitened o'er the bUck 

Despair of the heart, because Thou heardst me not ! 

I do beseech Thee now for but one word ! 

That I may know, full surely, whether it 

Were formed above a heart or no. If now 

Thou dost not speak, I fear Thou never wilt 

When I am shamed amidst the deities 

Who spread Thy presence in some other world. 

But tell me, God, where I may hear Thy voice ! 

Is it where bright and busy lightnings whet 

The earth's sharp peaks to keen attentiveness ? 

(Ir where the mountains hold themselves apart 

To make Thee all sufficing room to lay 

The broad front of Thy words in? Is it where 

The world has given up some feet of earth 

To Thee, and wrought opinion into stone 

To cover it, and set men up to watch 

For Thee, with thrifty lie-inwoven lips 

^^'ell-bated with old words of Thine, to catch 

Thy newer voice with ? Nay ! that, in sooth, 

Is but the hunter's clumsy art, and Thou 

Wilt suffer no pursuit. Have I not stood 

There while the shadow-dropping years, 

Like woods, were beaten for their quarry, till 



60 THE LAST PRAYER. 

Mine ears grew weary with the lengthened chase, 

And Echo was aggrieved for want of new, 

Sweet words? But I have pitied her, and brought 

The strong restoratives of histy shout 

And robust laugh and song such as the street 

Doth often feed her with. 

And I have prayed 
To Kcho before now, what time mine ear 
Was strained with striving for Thy distant voice, 
Thinking that she might take some subtle sound 
Of message which mine ears took not, and would 
Repeat it louder unto me. 

O (Jod, 
I know Thou art .' although Thou shunnest me. 
And speakest not, nor show'st Thy face ; but yet 
I thank Thee I am no philosopher ! 
I do not care to make a name to stamp 
My ignorance on ; I would not undertake 
To placard mysteries and think them better known. 
To build a wall around the night, would not 
Make any star more bright ; and why then build ? 
I cannot stop to make Thee ere I speak, 
Or make excuse for Thee as one who lacks 
Some godlike quality men may discern ; 
I would not view the shadow of myself, 
Thrown forward on the bank of mingled glooms 



THE LAST PKA YER. 01 

That is the future, and pay homage to it ; 
I would not so misprize Thee as to call 
Prevision of the perfect self, true God ; 
Nor would I so disperse Thee through the world 
That Thou art robbed of that sweet attribute, 
Dearest to man, the personal life of self ; — 
I only feel Thee God, and see Thy power 
Working superiorly beside mine own. 

There may be higher Gods than Thou ; let be ' 

That makes the need of Thee no less for earth 

Where Thou art dominant. Vet know I not 

What rights and offices exclusively 

Are Thine in this commingling life ; I fail 

To disentangle, fairly. Thine from mine. 

When, in his every task, Thou deign'st to be 

Co laborer with man ; I cannot find, 

Within me, or without, or anywhere, 

The simple, pure, etherial element 

Of God, dissociate, and Himself alone. 

1 cannot see Thee ; but Thy presence here 

Moves on some subtler sense than sight, with touch. 

Broader than mine own being — larger far 

Than nature which surrounds and only seems 

Hut as Thy finger on me ; till the soul 

Thrilling with all the beauties of the world 

Assures itself of Thee exultantly. 



C2 THE LAST PRAYER. 

Yea, God, I know that Thou art beautiful ! 
The faded images of Thee which men 
Have drawn upon the surfiice of the rough 
Conglomerate of their mingled hopes and fears,— 
How can I own them ? how can I revere 
The phantom shapes of sickly ecstasies, 
\V'herein some human worth doth often die, 
To leave a ghost to figure as a God ? 
How less than hate those color-clad conceits 
Which stare at me so boldly from the walls. 
When I rehearse Thy sacred mysteries. 
And touch the symbols of Thee, in the hush 
Between loud heart-beats ? Even in the free 
And boundless treasury of sweet things 
\\'here now I stand, I dare not contemplate 
These earthly charms and sky dependencies, 
As types of Thee or any part of Thee ; 
Thinking, mayhap, the flowers, fields and birds 
And cloud accompaniment of the days 
Progressive pagentry, might closer be 
Unto the beauty of this human heart. 
Than unto Thee — for 1 do here maintain 
That man has his own beauty e'en as Ciod — 
But my best witness to Thy beauty, stands 
The soul interpreting each beauteous thing 
As but a guide to Thee, although Thou yet 
Dost hide Thyself before me as I seek. 

But dost Thou so love silence that no word 



THE LAST PRAYER. 

May be vouchsafed to me, who wait so long? 

live there then other Ciods to talk with Thee, 

And canst rhou not forsake, for but this once, 

The long entrancement of their speech to say 

One word to me, who hearest but earthly words ? 

Is't then that the large import of Thy words 

Out-reaches the divided day of man. 

And that to hear Thy briefest utterance. 

Must one live on uninterruptedly. 

In a broad plane of open consciousness. 

While night and sleep, forced back by might of self. 

Mount slowly in black drifts on either hand ? 

Or is Thy voice dispersed in separate tones, 

Throughout the whole of nature, so that each 

That uttereth sound in all the living world. 

Doth speak the word of Ood ? O then recall 

The scattered and disordered filaments 

Of fluent speech, and reunited, pour 

The whole supernal flood upon my soul. 

Though there be silence in both earth and Heaven, 

And speech comes never more from these old lips I 

It is believed that Thou aforetime spoke 

To chosen men, who heard Thee reverently ; — 

Deliver now one word to me, that I 

May show Thee how those patriarchal saints 

Did shorten hearing to a vulgar mark 

And offered Thee contempt of common ear ; 



04 THE LAST PR A YER. 

For I will listen to Thee as a god, 

Although my speecli is spotted o'er with earth ' 

Shall I believe the sacred histories, 

Which say that Thou didst really speak to iliew, 

If Thou refusest now to speak to me ? 

Had olden men the watchword to God's house, 

And I and other men of this new time, 

Not gain admission for communion there? 

Was then Thy speech a favor of Thy grace, 

Or quick concession to discovery 

Of secret, subterranean ways to Thee ? 

Lingers there yet, with latent potency, 

Amidst the debris of disrupted speech. 

Some magic reliquary of old words 

Which once were fitly used to summon (l«d with? 

What lack I then of that sufficiency 

Which pleasedst Thee in them? Is it agai/isf 

Or /or us of to-day, that what was thought 

Thy very word, hath mingled with the world 

These many thousand years ? that I have heard 

It three score years and more, and reverently 

Have worn my lips with it, dost Thou adjudge 

Me now less worthy of an audience ? 

'Twere better. Thou hadst neTer spoken then ! 

Dost Thou attribute it as guilt to me. 

That when my lips have uttered forth the words 

Alleged of Thee, I did not visibly 

Put on the aspect of divinity — 



THE LAST PRAYER. 65 

The awful splendors of a god that grew 

More godlike in the work ot putting truth 

Of Heaven in earthly words — to then and there, 

Perform the miracle of making speech 

Of man transpierce man's shield of habitudes, 

And reach the soul, as reached it that first word 

That through the clearness of the virgin air 

Did fall upon it ? Nay, I could not help 

That men should see the common man that stood 

Behind Thy words, and give a careless ear 

Unto Thy minister ! I could not help 

That men should come as if to see Thy face, 

And only see some unetherial light 

Upon the far side of their sins, and shamed 

Thee, being satisfied that it was (iod ! 

Yet be not wroth with me, Thy servitor, 

For their insensibility ; or that 

They left the dust upon me of dead hearts ! 

Still silent, ( rod ! or dost Thou speak in vain ? 

Is then my soul so bounden to mine ear. 

That its choked channels stop Thine ample voice ? 

Nay, now 1 am as one disbodied quite ! 

I have no past ! I am become a child. 

With flight of eagle added ! from the white 

Self-lighted burning of my rising heart. 

Experience, like a smoke, doth roll away, 

And every fond remembrance of old joys 



66 THE LAST PRAYER. 

Doth die to send an incense unto Thee ' 
I make clear space around my naked soul, 
That Thou mayst drop one word into the void !" 

Here ended his wild prayer ; and following, 
Was no sound manifest of any kind. 
Save only his own sobbing ; as if awe 
Of that assuageless grief held all things mute. 
At last the old man turned his white face down 
Towards the great church he had ascended from, 
But recognized it not for foreignness ; 
Then down the hill's remoter side did pass. 



THE WONDERFUL WORKMEN. 



Four men met in an open field, 
When awe still held the stars away, 

Although the sun had, sated, reeled 
Down from the ivory peaks of day. 

Workmen they were, but work had left 
Them all unwearied as at dawn ; 

For strength is always safe from theft, 
Unless weak sloth is guardian. 

A farmer, mason, weaver made 

The first three of this company ; 
The fourth pursued as good a trade, — 

The high one of ship-carpentry. 

Noble and grave these four men seemed ; 

Dauntless, calm-voiced and vision-taught ; 
The light which from their pure eyes streamed 

Had long run by the shores of thought. 

Their eyes were serious, earnest eyes. 

Like those which reverent Wonder leads ; 

As though they long, with spirits wise. 
Had walked behind the noblest deeds. 



68 THE WONDERFUL WORKMEN. 

Their spirits' toils did never stop, 

And when their rude tools they laid by, 

They seized the ones the angels drop 
When they draw near the Deity. 

Eternal power flowed away 

From their great hearts on every side ; 
The labor of their hands by day, 

Was but the drift upon that tide. 

The life they knew was unconfined. 

And so surpassed the frame that delves, 

That they appeared to human-kind 
As cordial comrades of themselves. 

No weight of self was on their hands, 
And light as life their potent touch ; 

For Nature hears the heart's commands, 
And all things earthly yield to such. 

And all the varied implements, 

Which felt each day their noble grasp. 

Answered the firm hands pure intents. 
And knew at once the double clasp. 

These workmen never toiled for bread, 
Though living bread they never lacked ;- 

It grew where'er their labor led. 
And sent a stalk from every act. 



THE WONDERFUL WORKMEN'. G!) 

They worked for joy, for well they knew 
That joy but marked their spirits' sway ; 

And if they took the wages due, 

They took that they might throw away. 

They worked because their hearts were strong. 
And others seemed more weak than they ; 

They worked to lessen every wrong 
On kindred hearts that heavy lay. 

They worked to break the bands of need, 

That drew the fairest souls awry ; 
They worked to substitute, with speed, 

The leisure of love's sunbeam tie. 

They worked to fashion silent roads 

From out their pent hearts' deadening din ; 

That from their far-off, blest abodes. 
The peaceful spirits might come in. 

How great the joy, as these men meet. 

Flows full into their beings' core ! 
Each as his neighbor he doth greet, 

Feels all the perfect joy of four. 

They know each other at first sight, 

And their embrace endureth long ; 
They hear each other with delight, 

And each doth tell his tale in song. 



70 THE WONDERFUL WORKMEN. 

SONG OF THE SHIP-CARPENIER.. 

Here me well ! dear brothers three ; 
My craft is good and my heart is free ; 

I build ships of firmest plank, 
And many have stroked the sinking sea, 

But never yet one sank. 

Many voyages have I gone 

Upon each ship before 'twas done ; 

Many a time have spread the sails. 
And travelled swifter than the sun. 

Afar till ocean fails. 

There was no crew upon the deck ; 
I only, manned my seeming wreck 

Unbuilded yet to perfect form ; 
No rock beneath the wave could check, 

Nor ever any storm. 

Thus afloat each vessel grew, 

Sea and storm tried each piece new ; 

And their protection first was given, 
And love was sworn and pledges true, 

Before a bolt was driven. 

The winds and waves accept my float ; 
Their nature breathe in every boat, — 
Breathe speed and scorn of docks ; 



THE IVONDF.RFUL WORKMEN. 71 

And many gentle guides devote, 
For risk of rocks. 

Upon tlie apex of the sea, 
Where all the waves do well agree 

To not abandon any shore. 
But flow each way impartially ; 

There often do I moor. 

And all the waves I tie together, — 
Tie with a loose and loving tether ; 

Which yet shall hold like bands of steel. 
In summer or in winter weather, 

'Neath my ship's keel. 

Then speak I to the willing waves. 

And tell them what my sad heart craves ; 

And bid them say to every beach, 
A ship shall come that nothing saves. 

But hath a gift for each. 

And bid them cry to all souls there. 
To hasten with continuous care, 

To find the freight that ne'er was told 
15y hand that hurts or makes despair, 

Into a vessel's hold ; — 

The freight which once a ship of state. 
First bore awav from Heaven's gate — 



THE WONDERFUL WORKMEN. 

Life's love-encircling zone — 
But lost upon some shore of hate, 
The place unknown. 

THE SONG OF THK WEAVER. 

My work is weaving, and my kin 

Are those who weave and those who spin ; 
But most of all my kindred are 

The loomless weavers near and fiir, 
Whose fabrics pure and bright and thin, 

Would clothe a hope or robe a star. 

There's one who weaves the rain-bow wreath, 
Which dying furies do bequeath 

To the departing storm-cloud's heir ; 
And one who weaves the flushes rare, 

Which flicker o'er flame's lambent sheath, 
.\nd 'cross the restless lightning's lair. 

Beneath the moon's low canopy. 

Some slumberous weavers lie ; 
In dreams they weave the raiment bright, 

By fairy worn and favored sprite, 
As down to earth they radiant fly, 

To consecrate the fane of night. 

Another, the dawn weaver, weaves 

The sacrificial dress the earth receives, 
When comes in person the adored one 



THE WONDERFUL WORKMEN. 

To tend his altar of the sun ; 
And penitence again achieves 

Day tresh as the fount of Hehcon. 

And one there is, who, near the skies, 
Weaves glamours for all lovers' eyes, 

And weaves, oh, wondrous art ! besides, 
White visions of the sanctified ; 

Which swifter than the eagles rise. 
And widen as the heavens are wide. 

Each is my comrade, each my teacher ; 

The sun also, the downward-reacher ; 
Who blends in Nature's ceaseless loom. 

The earth's sad shade with his own bloom ; 
And helpeth most the jjale beseecher, 

Who kneeleth in her western room. 

And though I may not weave as they. 
Vet work I in my cloth each day, 

Some cunning threads which ne'er were spun 
Ry flower-wheel from the heart of the sun ; 

And many subtle plans I lay. 

That all my cloth be fairly done. 

I would that all who shall it wear, 
Might find that it will never tear : 

That every heart which beats below 
The fabric I have woven so, 



74 THE lVON/)ERFUL WORKMEN. 

Shall touch the spring and feel the snare, 
And swiftly all the others know. 

From Morning's face or Evening's mask, 

I take new virtue for my task ; 
And better threads I often gain 

Where saints have wept or angels lain ; 
And every gentle thing I ask 

For floss from its soft skein. 

Although I can, with all my care, 

Weave not what pure immortals wear, 

I yet may form the fabric meet 

To lie beneath their hovering feet ; 

And that shall keep me from despair, 
Until I die, if death be fleet. 

SONG OF THE FARMER. 

In the house of the foliate forces, 

I am only a favorite servant ; 
But my service is free as the water-courses, 

And my love for my lords is fervent. 
See these arms and these hands that in seasons unnum- 
bered 

My masters with treasures have cumbered ; 
Strong to swing lightly their ponderous doors, 

Strong to sweep often their measureless floors ; 
And with ease I can manage the broad furrow-shutter, 

Through which their fringe-flowing draperies flutter. 



THE WONDERFUL WORKMEN. 7o 

How arose this body so mighty and massive ? 

Have some deities wrought while I remained passive? 
Some sky calisthenics in secret employed ? 

Or some perfect gymnast unheeding destroyed, 
And invested me with the muscular treasure, 

Which gives to my labors "an exquisite pleasure? 
So like to a gladiator sometimes I feel, 

That my brain with delirium almost will reel : 
And I seem to behold the lords of brute force, 

As eager spectators who wildly lean out 
From their cloud-amphitheatres, with many a shout 

And sign of delight, as I rage round the course. 

For a nobler service I also am free ; 

And the robing room of my masters I keep. 
Where the ancient gowns of their order sleep : 

And often I see, or believe that I see, 
What they lay aside as they come near me ; 

What they take from their forms and give to the 
flower. 
Hang on the neck of the swift-passing shower. 

Or fling o'er the wave-rent garb of the sea ; — 
All brought from the farms of the far, solar plains, 

Where the quick, yellow seed is unweariedly sown, 
And the harvests up-spring from the unburied grains. 

And at morning and evening are mown. 

From their haunts and habits aerial. 
From the realms and regions imperial. 



70 THE WONDERFUL IVOR KM EX. 

From their seats in the shade of the moon, 

Or on the white wings of the noon, 
With greetings and grace magisterial. 

They come, when they hear the Hght fall 
( )f the seed, as their subtle recall. 

Confused is the whir of their answering wings. 

And countless the gifts which every one brings ; 
All poured in disorderly masses around, 

?'or Confusion still makes the first claim to the 
ground ; 
But I am the foe of the mad Miscellaneous, 

And oppose with my weapons extem]:)oraneous ; 
And I house like a shepherd the all holy Kinds, 

The images pure of infinite Minds. 

But evil gets mixed with their glorious freight ; 

As they sweep through the regions of fer-spreading 
hate, 
They catch from its seas the venomous drift. 

And defile in its froth the most sacred gift ; 
But I hear, as I list to them speeding along, 

How they heal it with blessings and purge it with song. 

But alas ! how fateful and i^ast their pure knowing, 
That their sacred touch is sometimes too glowing ! 

That the thrill of the heart and the speed of the thought, 
May oft on the earth-destined fabrics be wrought I 

But I know, and 1 labor with might and with zeal. 



THE WONDERFUL WORKMEN. 77 

To draw from the grain what makes the brain reel : 
To draw from the fruit what shall blast with delight 

Since the bliss to the gods may to us be a blight ; 
But strive as I may, they will never endure 

That a mortal shall sully what they have made pure. 

Far different the harvest / take from my lords, — 

Ineffable motions and ravishing words ; 
The many in one is revealed in each act, 

And multiplies ever each radiant fact ; 
Each face I behold of that seraph band, 

Speaks the love of a legion, and each sacred hand 
Thrills with the touch of the vibrating wire 

Which soweth the songs of some angelic choir ; 
Each word is a poem, each sound a sweet song. 

And each blessing seems dropped from a glorified 
throng. 

xAnd learning of them, I interpret the world ; 

I see in each bud how the petals are curled ; 
From each flying sound I loosen a trill ; 

From each drop of dew libations I spill ; 
Each kernel of corn, which in foliage flows. 

Bears the ear on its currents with close topaz rows ; 
All the least-valued things have their halos of glory, 

.\nd the commonest word conveys a full story ; 
Each star that revolves on its delicate cogs — 

Which ne'er with the load of its mysteries clogs — 



78 THE WONDERFUL WORKMEN. 

Could people the sky with as splendid a host", 
If all who now roam there were hopelessly lost ; 

Through the portal of one the many appear, 

And the many may bloom though the portal be sere ; 

And the barren and dead into verdure will start, 

When gathered by Love and sown on the heart. 

THE mason's song. 

When winds their stormy dredges dropped to earth. 
Deepening the channels of their furious flow ; 

And each cloud monster, round his mighty girth, 
Tightened his glittering girdle for a blow ; 

There was a sound of many mortals falling, 

And solemn-voiced I heard the sad earth calling : 

"My enemies prevail, my children die ; 

Winds, rains, heat, cold, my armless breast attack ; 
And all the restless energies that fly. 

Grudging the peace which they must ever lack, 
Murder the dear ones wliom I love alone, 

And those who know my voice's large, low tone. 

"O build me homes that evermore shall hold 

Those who come to me ! build me treasure-vaults, 

Straight as the sun's sheer precipice of gold ! 
Strong as the sky that ne'er its stars defaults ! 

Pure as the new moon's curving waterfall. 
That breaks in silvery mist illusional !" 



THE WONDERFUL WORKMEN. 79 

The voice was pleading, yet its power such, 

That with the whirlwind's spiral draft, 
Fell on my heart's calm atmosphere its touch, 

And drew it to the summit of my craft ; 
This was my call as from a sacred tongue. 

And I became a mason while still young. 

When first the scaffold's narrow ledge I walked, 
I seemed awakened to some old delight. 

Vague and mysterious, which my senses balked, 
Yet dimly pictured to the inner sight ; 

Sun, clouds, the winds and winged wanderers, 
\\'ere to the steed beneath my heart as spurs. 

But down I looked upon the grave, still earth, 
Whose solitude did seem to cover prayer ; 

And, like a fertile loam, gave ready birth 
To quiet verdure which I found most fair ; 

In vain sought winds to blow my love away ; 

Though it were dust, yet on my heart 'twould stay. 

So to my wall I cleave and with it rise, 

Till I am higher than the trees ee'r clomb ; 

Detect what they hold upward to the skies, 

And learn, besides, how keeps her crystal home 

Each winged inmate of the airy spaces, 

Where nothing sullies and where naught defaces. 

And I have builded many homes and fair ; 
Have often led my hollow squares of stone. 



80 THE WONDERFUI. WORKMEN. 

In many a charge against the foes of air, 

And conquered room to chamber peace alone ; 

For if the space we win hold not repose, 

'Twere better that no place we should inclose. 

Of every home, I love the most to build 

That one for which some loving pair shall wait — 

In every other enterprise unskilled — 

To lead young Love within the unpassed gate ; 

Ikit quite as sacred as where brides shall lie^ 

Is where the good are born, and where they die. 

But higher than my walls of l)rick or stone, 
I build light structures based upon my heart, 

Reaching as high as ever binf hath flown. 
Bright as dissolven stars in every part ; 

And rocking on the pulses of my days. 
Softly as shadows on the waterways. 

Therein doth lie as in a wizard palace, 

A sweet, young spirit, sunk in charmed sleep ; 

So lulled by craft of elemental malice, 

Since I refused lo hear the winds that sweep ; 

But I shall kiss and cure that charmed brow, 
When earth shall loose me from my early vow. 

CONCLUSION. 

Thus sang they through the lessening light, 
And reared upon the pillared strain, 

To shield them from the growing night. 
The choral dome of a refrain ; 



THE WONDERFUL IVORKMEN^. 81 

Which was not shaped o'er meager words, 

Nor ribbed by speech in any part ; 
But bore aloft, like song of birds, 

The perfect arches of the heart. 

So far was sped that fourfold song, 

.So high that blended music went, 
Each seemed precentor of a throng 

( )f those whose song is never spent ; 

Hut pours unwasting through the air, 

Through space unreached by other power ; 

And aids the human voices rare, 
\Vhich only holy Love doth dower. 

Such might was in that singing band — 
Such might may perfect song display — 

That though the night lay on the land. 

Where those men stood 'twas light as day. 

I know not whence that light was shed — 

I only saw the (juenchless glow — 
Whether from some celestial head. 

That startling, luminous force did flow ; 

Or whether music's essence is 

A steady, white and limpid flame, 
That fades whene'r it goes amiss. 

Through earthly hearts of darkened aim ; — 



82 THE WONDERFUL WORKMEN. 

I know not, though I sometimes dream 
That loving hearts may Iceep the day ; 

And keep alive their fiery gleam, 
If long in music's draft they lay. 

])Ut in that light, where'er it sprung, 
I saw revealed a wondrous sight ; — 

Before each heart of those who sung, 
Lay full displayed its secret might. 

And far across the land there stretched 
The perfect product of each craft ; 

As if the craftsman's dreams were etched 
Upon a mighty silver shaft. 

Oh, earth and sea and man were dressed. 
As they were never dressed before ! 

Unless it were, when they expressed 
The life that leaped from every pore. 

The ships that lived upon the sea. 

Seemed waves that broke not when up-cast 

The sails that with the winds agree, 

Were flowers that bloom upon the mast. 

The fields before the farmers' feet. 
Had verdure that for e'er abides ; 

The harvests that the whole year greet, 
Were fattened in the solar tides. 



THE WONDERFUL WORKMEN. 83 

The houses of the happy folk, 

Like living things, lay on the earth ; 
And in chameleon changes spoke 

Each perfect moment's blissful birth. 

And man again was nobly clad, 

In raiment equal to his face, 
And every glowing member had 

A shield that hid no natural grace ; 

But matched the body's bright extern, 
And matched the throbbing life within ; 

And veined for holy fires that burn 
All stains upon the tissue thin. 

But as I watched those seraph forms, 
And lived as part of that bright scene, 

A-sudden, night's black, locust swarms 
Began to fall on that pure sheen. 

And as the snowy light grew dim, 
I knew the four-fold song was done ; 

And in the twilight of that hymn, 
The parting of those men begun. 

I could not see that sacred rite. 

Or know what parting words were said ; 

But as they vanished from my sight, 
I heard faint moanings overhead. 



THH TRAMP. 



Some children played before me in the street, 

And, in my thought, they tripped o'er silver wir&s 

Heart-fashioned of the past, and music sweet 
Rose from the stones in mists of rare desires ; — 

When lo ! with shout of "Tramp ! " they ran away. 

To take elsewhere their never-alien play. 

The tramp came slowly in the children's wake, 
.\s though he walked, with awe, on holy ground. 

And in those empty realms of joy did shake, 
Aghast at having shin such happy sound. 

"Come back !" he cried, "people again this place ! 

Come back, O Joy, with all thy radiant race !" 

He nearer came, and I beheld him plain ; — 

A slender figure, finely wire-drawn. 
As if to carry messages of pain ; — 

A face that seemed a cjuivering, white dawn ; 
And eyes like beacons on a dangerous coast, 
That lighted but the ships already lost. 

Hut coming near, he turned his eyes on mc. 
And there appeared such largeness in his looks 



THE TKAMP. 83 

As could not lie in self's small boundary ; 

And, like the sunfish in the sunny brooks, 
Inquiry swam within those restless eyes. 
And doubt upon them dropped her floating lies. 

He paused and spoke to me, still standing there, 
With voice that sank before the feared reply, 

And stranger words were never said, I swear ! 
Since earth first shuddered at a human cry. 

"I seek," he said, "what others do not need ; 

If thou dost know its place, O thither lead ! 

"Far have I come, since I began the search ; 

My days seem strung, like beads, upon the way ; 
And yet, I fear me, that beyond death's perch 

Must lie the goal for which I ever pray. 
I know I have not passed it on the road, 
For everywhere want's cry has been my goad. 

"And ever have I questioned those I met. 
For tidings of the thing for which I sought ; 

Have asked the laborer with his face of sweat, 
The idler in his dreams that come to nought ; 

The old, beneath the shadow of their aims, 

The young, who scarce are schooled in their joys' names." 

"Enter," I said, "strange man, for rest and food, 

And tell me, after, all thy wondrous tale." 
"The strong flow of my heart to Hunger's brood. 



86 THE TRAMP. 

Sweeps food from mine own lips, as by a gale : 
I am not weary, and my tale is brief; 
And thou shalt hear it for mine own relief. 

" ' Twere better to be born on some bare rock, 
Or 'neath the clamorous cyclone's dervish feet ; 

Or by the doors at which the lightnings knock, 
Or in the poisoned place where serpents meet ; 

Than draw from \\'ealth's hot teat of blistering sand 

Her dead-sea milk, by the sirocco fanned ! , 

"^Vealth is a fortress built against the sun ; 

An ambush set for angels ; a defence 
'Gainst the world's love ; an opiate cordial won, 

When Heaven's face would be the watcher's recom- 
pense ; 
A draft from Styx ; a duct from that black stream 
To irrigate the regions of a dream. 

"I was born rich ; and all a father's gain 
Was stored away, with all the marks effaced 

Of his strange instruments — once printed plain. 
And every purpose and result there traced ; — 

The wealth was but a cavern home for me, 

Beneath the sunny heights of industry. 

"I lived as in a cave ; my treasure vaults 

Seemed filled by secret channels reaching up 
To where creative labor never halts ; — 



■ - THE TRAMP. 

Seemed draining stealthily her humble cup : 
The very drops upon my cavern wall 
Were but the ooze of labor's pressing thrall. 

"And when I sat without that dark recess, 
I saw the workmen passing to the heights, 

^Vith lowering brows and bodies comfortless, 
And hand that hardens slowly ere it smites ; 

And bearing banners oft inscribed with 'AVant," 

Which they turned towards me with a frequent taunt. 

"If down I traveled to the shaded deep, 

I found there but the ghost of the despoiled ; — - 

People whose names were whispered in my sleep, 
As having once upon my treasure toiled ; 

Till I could find on every coin and stone 

Some other's name ; — on none could see mine own. 

"Oh, why is wealth established were it is, 

All toil above, and every want below ? 
Why can it not be built in realms of bliss. 

Beyond the heights which toil doth crown like snow?- 
But yet, if it were there, 'twould fade in mist ; 
For in that holy air wealth never could exist. 

"I had not learned to climb the lofty steep, 

x-Xnd saw but horror in the vale below ; 
I knew not where the vines of pleasure creep, 

Or where the summer draws her breezy bow 



88 THE TRAMP. 

Across the silvery streamlet's tightened strings, 
And through the viol of the pine tree sings. 

"Oh, wealth is like a lonely, mateless bird, 
That dips it wings not in the common air ! 

Deep in the earth its heavy flight is heard, 
^Vhere only it and reckless miners dare ; — 

What company for me in all the land, 

When all around me had a different hand ? 

'T seemed a dam upon the streams of joy ; 

A ligature upon a rounded vein ; 
Or clot that might the baffled heart destroy, 

That it with life should never beat again ; 
Yet all that flowed before mine alien face, 
Was marked for others in an other place. 

"And why was I not there/ Why was I placed 
So near the fountain, that its forceful flow 

Swept all things past ere ever I could taste? — 
So near to Nature, that her mighty bow 

Sent all her arrows far above my head, 

And all her blessings far beyond me sped ! 

"But I can give, I thought, if not receive ; 

And I will draw my bow of generous deed, 
And every arrow shall some want reprieve, 

Till one doth drop the thing which most I need ; 
Andif it be what makes none other poor. 
Then shall I take it, and it shall endure. 



THE TRAMP. 89 

With eager hand I brought my treasures forth, 
And spread them in the sight of all who passed ; 

What way soe'er they traveled, south or north 
Or east or west ; whatever greeting cast ; — 

To each I offered what he most did crave ; 

So long as one had want, I nought would save. 

"^\"hen all was gone my weary quest began, 

To find, somewhere, the good none else did need ; 

And as I journey, everything I scan ; 

Nor doubt but that I shall at last succeed. 

Although my way has ever been among 

The things to which some private want was hung." 

He turned away, and would not be restrained : 

I bowed my head, as if before a grave ; 
For well I knew the land had ne'er contained. 

Nor ocean borne upon his highest wave. 
The prize he sought ! but yet I knew, indeed, 
He soon would find what others do not need. 



DEMOCRACY. 



Not on the crust of earth, Democracy, 

\N'ert thou begotten ! but within the core 

Of some fair, glowing world, all sea 

And sunny motion to the boundless shore, 

^Vhereto its balanced waves did sing and flow, 

Poised blissful on its central unity : — 

There wert thou born ; there didst thou freely grow, 

Thou perfect infant, mothered by a world 

Whose crowded lives, from every part, 

Discharged their joys upon thine even heart; 

And round its spheric longings curled, 

That made thine earthward flight 

Sweet things of sacred light. 



Before man's foot had touched the earth's hard marge. 

It had advanced its high, white peaks. 

To make for thine a welcome large. 

In sign of what it mutely seeks ; 

And thou, as tender as a foam-child born 

On Heaven's sea when surgeful Music speaks, 

( )r like the image on its bosom worn 

When it is stilled to the star-pebbled shore, 



DEMOCRACY. 91 

By Peace who crosses with her muffled oar ; 
Descended singing, but wert scarcely here, 
Before thou seemedst a hardy mountaineer. 

How in a moment wert thou changed ! 

Thy peaceful song became a battle cry, 

Which from thee, somewhat. Love estranged ; 

Thy sweetly ordered garb was turned awry ; 

Its orbic emblems grew distorted. 

As if by crossed attractions thwarted ; 

The dust of strife soon blurred thy lustrous eye ; 

Thy hands, unbalanced, moved confusedly ; 

But thou didst falter not ; thy heart was whole, 

And had no flaw for fear to nestle in ; 

And dauntlessly thou strodest towards the goal. 

Which still was shining through the dusty din 

Where man should settle from some shattered sphere. 

With splinters buried in his heart of fear. 

Brief was thy waiting ; since thou scarce hadst taught 
The earth to graft with silvery streams her seas, 
And scarce the forest's friendly compacts wrought. 
And grouped all living things in families ; 
When man fell startled on the earth's hard rind, 
U'ith vision shaken from its central seat. 
And henceforth to his spirit's marge confined. 
As he to earth's, and margined things to greet ; 
And ever out from his own glory turned, 



92 DEMOCRACY. 

As his new shadow from the sun was spurned. 

And while bewildered and afraid he lay, 

He saw aloft a hateful bird of prey, 

That, like an auger, bored with spiral wings 

The clear air towards him and his sweet heart-springs 

And from the clouds he heard the houseless thunder, 

And wild beasts raging in the forest under ; 

But Nature's quiet explanations made 

With song of bird and sunlight's aid, 

And flowers stationed just beyond the shade, 

He knew not, since he was not brave ; 

For Beauty even shuns a slave. 

Art thou unmoved, Democracy ? 

So listlessly thou movest toward the spot. 

Has the cold strangled thy divinity, 

( )r heat engaged in some malicious plot. 

To foil thy fleetness? or, in sudden freak. 

Hast thou the swift wind chased, that now so weak ? 

But lo ! I wronged thee, since thy glorious face, 

Of earthly weariness reveals no trace ; 

But there before thee in the untried way, 

Rise foes whose strength is little less than thine ; 

Who claim o'er man the first delusive sway ; 

And must oppose thee and thy thoughts divine. 

There stand Oppression, Hatred, Ignorance, 

And Fear, the phantom, with his looks askance ; 

But on thy face one only image lies ; 



DEMOCRACY. 93 

'Tis that of Pity writing thy resolve ; 
And thou dost look in longing toward the skies, 
'lb find the spot where shall again revolve 
Man's golden world, with man himself restored — 
His lordly head no longer lowered. 

Hark ! does that sacred vision turn to song? 

O holy Pythoness, was that a chant, 

Which from thy laughing lips rose up so strong. 

That Tumult's tangle were a breaker scant 

For that full flood, which could not be confined 

By aught save music of a nobler kind? 

Like seraphs' songs heard round their perfect spheres, 

The wild strain flows ! Earth's captured hills 

No more keep guard ! the lightning's broken spears 

Strike down the airy powers of hostile wills ! 

The free winds aid, and scornfully reject 

All other messages ; but thine protect, 

Until they strike the ears of men enslaved, 

And turn again to vision ! Men are saved ! 

And now, thy foes eluded, I behold 
Thee mingling watchfully among men : 
Confusion follows on thy footsteps bold ; 
And thou dost smite the despot, Order, when 
He only ranges men in graded rows. 
To walk in single file and not oppose 
The mandate of the foremost man in line. 
And thou dost tell men not to look on one ; 



94 DEMOCRACY. 

But turn their eyes where'er the sun doth shine 
To show a man ; or where there now is none, 
If only once his shadow there has lain. 
And thou dost show that fear's the only stain 
Which cannot be washed off of human hands ; 
That man's full soul hath room for no commands ; 
And that his brow had not been left so bare, 
If but Subjection's name were to be printed there. 

Where hast thou learned that look of wrathful scorn? 

Hast thou seen brawls aforetime among gods? 

Or Heaven desecrated, when some demon-born 

Intruder, smites the seraph he defrauds 

Of his exalted rights ? Or hast thou seen 

An aweless seraph do some common task. 

Nor raise his eyes when near him gods unmask, 

And leave unbared their glory-shedding mien? 

For when thou seest man sordid, cheating, raging. 

And chiefly, when before thee, man strikes man. 

Thy features show no longer mercy's plan ; 

But mark a passion that is long assuaging ; 

But when thou seest a man erect 

A paltry structure which he calls a throne, 

For his lone seat, and calmly doth expect 

Mankind to be its base of lifeless stone ; 

Then laughter loosens but thy light contempt, 

At what from serious care is well exempt ; 

Thy hand but rises and the thing is gone. 



DEMOCRACY. 95 

Thou speakest not to all ; but first dost choose 

Thy trusty confidants ; men of reserve, 

Of hearts world-modeled, and of thews 

That might have bent a mountain to its curve, 

Yet would have feared to crook or cramp 

The slender column of another's will, 

First raised to hold the inspired lamp 

Of consecrated thought in mists of ill. 

To them thou needest no interpreter ; 

For thou dost ever speak their ancient speech, 

Which they have learned where deities confer, 

And still doth echo in th© soul of each. 

How dost thou tutor these, thine own elect ? 

What grace bestow from thine abundant store? 

Dost thou their hardened limbs with charms protect, 

Or on their eyelids dreamy lotions pour? 

Nay ! thou dost simply show that one free soul 

Out-weighs the whole of Nature's beady bowl, 

If base submission mixes with the drink ; 

And teachest these devoted ones to think 

It good to perish for their cowering race. 

And crowd their boundless lives into a moment's space. 

Is Death's thy service then? didst thou appear 

To only show the mortal how to die. 

And from his latest, living thought to rear 

The standard of a dim eternity? — 

To leap at one strong bound all life's extent. 



!)fi DEMOCRACY. 

And dwell one fiery moment on its verge, 
And then spring lightly to his banishment 
Into the dark abyss — the unseen surge — 
And holding in his hands upraised, 
A little snow snatched from life's highest peaks, 
Or winter rose by icy breezes glazed, 
To charm away the demon vulture-l)eaks? — 
This is thy mission then? Nay, never so ! 
But the free spirit housed in every man. 
Thou wouldst, fuU-statured and resistless, show 
To feeble thousands who could never scan 
Its noble image in their shrunken thought. 
Nor use the powers to their fingers brought. 

Hut in the splendor of a great man's death, 

The darkened places of the mind are light ; 

And witli the flutter of his latest breath, 

The earth is shaken by a thing of might ; 

And the world-currents which were lately choked, 

Break down all dams which selfish strength hath made, 

Or wrongful purpose hath invoked 

To stop the stream of Nature's equal aid ; 

And in the quiet of the afterflow, 

Thy voice is heard again ; and thou dost teach 

That Nature is distrustful, and doth countermand 

I<'>ach perfect gift, unless the whole shall reach 

The destined port of every empty hand ; 

That though a man may rise to his full height. 



DEMOCRACY. 97 

'I'o lend her momentary aid, she knows 

To put him straightway from material sight, 

Till man no longer shall a man oppose ; 

That there's no sceptre save the unclogged arm, 

Nor any crown but that which fits all heads 

With equal grace— reflects to none a harm, 

But glory of enfranchised eyes instead, 

And bounds dominion by its circling line ; 

That Freedom is the light of the Divine, 

The soul's true gladness and its starry glow ; 

That man should pause, if Freedom may not go ;— 

Should scorn a seat, though gods should pass the place, 

If he might not be free to turn away his face. 

Yet, ( ) thou godess, one ignoble art 

Thou teachest ! for thou goest among those 

Who gather up the overflow of Nature's heart : 

Who watch whene'er the careless hands unclose, 

And drop their lioldings : and who stealthy catch, 

\^'\\\\ ready basins and expert dispatch. 

The very drops which fill from lips that praise 

The sweet elixirs of laborious days : 

To such, and to the ones who save with greed. 

The flying atoms from the sharpening blade 

Of effort 'gainst the whirling stone of need. 

Thou sayest a thrifty word, and givest aid 

To count and to divide the shameful gains : — 

Oh ! show not thy white fingers lasting stains? 

Better, O stooping one, hadst thou, instead. 



98 DEMOCRACY. 

Called up a flood at close of every day, 

Wakened a whirlwind from its spiral bed, 

And washed and blown the stained hoard away ! 

() Democracy, reclaim this erring crowd ! 

Show thyself to them in thy pristine might ! 

Unfold the grace wherewith thou art endowed ; 

Raise thy majestic form to its full height ! 

Set straight thy struggle-torn, disorded dress ! 

Take up the symbol of a human heart 

Carven from gold and purged of its distress. 

Which lies upon the ground there where thou art, 

And very near thy feet ! Sing thou again ! 

O sing of Joy and Truth and Love ! explain, 

That joy is like a sea whose tides do dash 

On the broad beaches of a race, and not 

On capes of favored beings crash ! 

O take from off man's heart Fear's fingers hot, 

And turn its tremors to the pleasant thrill 

Of music ! Show, that though Joy counteth hearts. 

Whene'er she opens her fine treasuries. 

Nature, more wary, counts but honest hands. 

Ere she permits the lessened gifts to pass : 

And say or sing where Nature doth conceal 

The gathered glories of fecundate time. 

Which she ordaineth never to reveal. 

Till all men gather in some gentle clime ; 

And round the spot a perfect circle shape. 

Lest one small gap should let the whole escape ! 



THE SUBJECT SPIRIT. 



A spirit was captured when Love kept guard 
On the marge of her fair free world alone, 

And the secret pass was left unbarred 

Which led where the seat of her empire shone. 

The fetters were fixed ere she was aware, 

While the rare sweet song on her lips fell dead, 

And fancies of wondrous flights in air 
Sank in the deeps of her heart like lead. 

All the symbols of self were snatched away. 

With the wonderful things her hands had wrought 

In the fading sheen of each passing day 

To the beauteous mould of her easy thought. 

From her form was taken her delicate dress. 

Which but bodied the glow of her inward grace. 

And the only screen to her dumb distress 
Was the common garb of a servile race. 

And her captors in haste conveyed her far, 
To a place where gloomiest vapors roll, 

Where her home was built 'neath a baleful star, 
Under the arch of a single soul. 



100 THE SUBJECT SPIRIT. 

'Twas a wondrous dwelling of substance fine, 
Of a changeful form and a fickle hue, 

With as many rooms in its strange design 
As the heart has places for pleasures new. 

But the house was empty except for one 

And the shadows which his choked heart did spill 

For the structure was built by his hands alone, 
And was girded around by his single will. 

And this ghostly house where she dimly dwelt 
With the lord she served with abased head, 

Would dilate with the leave of its magic belt, 
Or shrink to the smallest space instead. 

l)Ut expand or diminish, however it might, 

The bounds of her slavery never were crossed ; 

And the sway of another to her seemed right. 
Since the way of a separate life was lost. 

Oh ! a piteous sight was this helpless slave. 
As she flitted about in an aimless way ; 

But only advanced where her master drave. 
And only remained where he bid her stay. 

Yea 1 her hand in the wake of his own hand moved, 
And her deed was his doing, while ever his need 

But her own need unto her dim thought proved, 
And her pain with his own pain fully agreed. 



THE SUBJECT SPIRTT. 101 

Her voice only filled the old mould of his speech, 
And the dross in the draught of his eyes, 

Alone fed the eyes the blank days did leech 
With the drouthy lips of a false sunrise. 

If alone she was left with her phantom household, 
While he flung his glatl heart 'gainst the upper- 
most sky, 

With a wild, free wing and a joy untold, 

Her own wings quivered she scarce knew why. 

His exhausted emotions revived in her heart, 

Antl she fondly believed her own heart was alive ; 

And the music that from his tense being did start. 
To repeat on slack strings she did strive. 

There is such a delight in a soul's free play, 
That one is not sad who can merely repeat 

The motions that picture that consummate way, 
And the mere imitation seems wondrously sweet ; 

just as if some imperial flower should grow, 
Whose shadow itself was a dim, dusky bloom, 

And sent from the wells of its half-smothered glow 
The delicate hint of a subtle perfume. 

Now had passed a long time since a prisoner came 
This weak, wronged soul to her prison-house wierd. 

And she lovlier grew notwithstanding her shame, 
And unto her liege more and more was endeared. 



102 THE SUBJECT SPIRIT. 

For 'tis easy to love what resideth so nigh 

To the love-beating heart, that its echoes return 

The loud stroke of self with each lover-sweet cry 
Which leaps from the heart which has self yet to 
learn 

His love was as sure her own love to find, 

As the rainbow is sure to come up with the rain, 

For it bowed but the mists of his masterful mind, 
And its hues were entwined like the links of a 
chain. 

But the world-heart true has a world-old cure 
For a heart enslaved and a heart that sways. 

And the time soon comes when it will not endure 
'I'hat a lie shall discolor the deeps of the days. 

i'hen she sends her tides which are christened death ; 

The white, keen tides which dissolve all deceit. 
And turn to the stuff of the lightest breath 

The bonds that her truth and her love defeat. 

And these tides arose on this mateless pair, 

And the shadows shrank and the falsehoods fell, 

Till between the flood and the crystal air 
Were two naked souls and a broken spell. 

'J'hen at first, like to two leashed darts, they fly 
Straight up from that silent and waveless waste, 



THE SUBJECT SPIRIT. 103 

And the ether new sang a sweet reply 

To the rhythmic beat of their wings of haste. 

For a million of leagues ever forward they flew, 
But no place of repose did they anywhere find, 

And fatigued near to fainting then both souls grew, 
But especially she of so gentle a mind. 

Now a flash 1 and a new world lies in their sight ; 

The spontaneous child of immaculate stuff 
So refined, that to quicken it into the light, 

The percussion of angelic wings is enough. 

The purged air might have given it birth, 

For 'twas light as the foam which the waves dis- 
perse, 

And embodied the grace of the rarefied worth 
Which, diffused, doth fecundate the universe. 

Quickly thither, aweary, the fugitives turned, 

^^'ith their long-lonely hearts newly peopled with 
hopes, 
And their eyes some ineffable essences burned 

That escaped from the sheen of that world's won- 
drous slopes. 

All at once, there was woe for that voyaging twain; 

In their faces the force of a sudden storm blew ; 
And it rose to a blast, and their struggles were vain, 

For the new world bade them to wander anew. 



104 THE SUBJECT SPIRIT. 

And apart, and as dead, they were carried away. 

By the winds that sprung from that tenantless world, 
With their sad, shining wings all in disarray, 

And their white breasts up, they were therefrom 
whirled ; 

And were left to drift in the vast unknown, 
Past the drifting moon or a fixed star, 

Till received on some sphere of a lower zone, 
They might live again in that world afar. 



THE WHOLE TRUTH. 



"For Anthony, my husband," was inscribed 

The packet found upon the woman's breast, 

When women came in prompt apprenticeship 

Of death, to dress her fitly for the grave ; 

And, underneath, was added, "To be read 

At once, and placed again where it was found." 

Within, the wretched man first read these Hnes ; 

"O blameless man, true friend, wise counsellor, 

Look once upon the face that thou has loved, 

After the truth is known, and in the white. 

Soft splendor of thy heart's benignity. 

Let the dark flake of this my secret sin 

Be melted and consumed ; or if thou must, 

Still yet recall from that white, helpless face 

All the fond, faithful looks which thou has let 

The lie there snare from thee, lest there remain 

Some little spot not false, some slightest trace 

Of olden smile upon it, to front God with. 

Thou thoughtest not when thou assuringly 

Didst kiss the last breath forth from these weak lips- 

For so I see my life shall pass away — 

That thou didst sow a seed in that black ground, 



106 THE WHOLE TRUTH. 

From which should spring such bitter, bhghting words 

As are here writ. But nay ! it is not so ; 

Though I being dead yet speak, I speak not now 

With hps that have learned phrases or bestowed 

Translations of the heart's black-letter past 

To false impression of new happiness ; 

But I do now announce the very soul. 

As one deprived of every earthly thing. 

And standing in the single element 

Of higher worlds where nothing doth exist 

Whereby a falsehood may be signified." 

Here followed a long space unwritten on, 
As though she fain would let his fancy build 
A gradual stairway of his rising dread 
Unto the awful heights of her next words. 
The following sheet began abruptly thus : 
"Love is a ball of shrouded fire let down 
Invisibly between love's candidates ; 
Thy subtle instincts only gave thee power 
To draw the covering from the side towards me, 
So that dark-lanternwise, it only shone 
Upon my heart, and left thine own obscure. 
Thou couldst but sing the morning song of love ; — 
The sun rose later. Thou couldst early wake 
Love's angel tented o'er the quiet heart, 
But she did waken blind, and did mistake 
Thy hand for that of her true mate, until 



THE WHOLE TRUTH. 107 

One came who touched her eyes to sight. 
I have not truly loved thee any time ; 
That which we thought was love has only been 
The soul's rise to the gauge of custom, not 
The tide profound that drowns material things. 
Yet in these days of doubt and weariness, 
vSeeing thy goodness round me everywhere, 
Sometimes I almost have believed that love 
Showed not within the white light of thy life, 
Because, star-like, it could be seen to shine 
But in the evening of a darker nature. 

After our marriage there was calm accord, 
Sweet fellowship and even happiness ; 
For happiness doth build on level floors 
Of such concomitance, and not on slopes 
Of superposed or far-receding aims. 
And in this wise two quiet years passed by, 
1 ,ike white swans on a quiet stream ; the third — 
That was a white swan too, but wondrously 
Sheeted with bleachen flame, and thrilling all 
The upper air with daring feats of flight. 
Until it seemed it must have surely found. 
In that etherial world of buoyancy. 
Some upward-flowing stream of blessedness. 
And on its mounting currents of delight. 
Followed its shadow heavenward ; for that year 
Came he of whom I now must truly write. 



108 THE WHOLE TRUTH. 

A spirit with a strange and potent spell, 
That may be used but once ; a deity 
Who shows his ichor-veined breast, his arms 
Force-tissued out of lights incomparable, 
And world-empictured palms to one marked soul ;- 
That is a lover, when that common word 
Slips from its rags of use and shows pure flesh. 
'Tis one that shows the old divinity 
Is stronger than the new humanity. 
Such seems me that I had. When first he stood 
Inside the room where I sat silently, 
It seemed he was a messenger for me ; 
And I felt wronged when he looked not my way. 
But spoke to others unconcernedly. 
Yet, as he talked, the fairy oars of speech 
Sent subtle ripples through the sea of sound 
To my ears only — music's mysteries 
And fine, delicious sympathies. 
Later, when he first spoke to me, it seemed 
There was a sudden light turned on, and through 
The cavern world, wherein I long had lived, 
Went myriads of sprites along the walls. 
Waking embedded gems ; while I thought speech 
Had ne'er before been put to such a use. 
But like some strange utensil of the gods, 
Left carelessly on earth, grotesquely false 
Had been men's doubtful, childish touch, until 
The wonder fell into his hands, and now, — 
The true intent — right touch, and thus 
The miracle. 



THE WHOLE TRUTH. 109 

I will not try to trace 
The days that followed, nor make visible 
The different beauty of each passing face ; 
Let this be all ; with song and seraph voice 
Each did announce to my enraptured heart 
The new force thrilling through the universe. 
Either the world sank round it, or my soul 
Rose lightened of some coarser element ; 
I felt as though some secret agency 
Was working 'gainst the earth's attractive power ; 
The sun and stars seemed forcibly to draw me ; 
The light, free winds and wonders of the air 
Did make me of their moving company. 
Before, I had enjoyed some little things I had 
Close pressed against my claim- declaring heart; 
But now was all diffused and wholly free, 
Yet was the whole enjoyed unceasingly ; 
And day became all sunrise, and the night 
Was daylight starred. 

There was a strong soul near 
To hold mine own, invincibly, against 
The void around, wherein the single soul, 
Unless so hedged, is ofttimes dissipate. 
Here was the one thing I so oft had lacked ; — 
The close quicksilver to the pure glass 
Of being, making it a mirror which 
Reveals that coy and covert wonder, Self. 



110 THE WHOLE TRUTH. 

Blame not o'ermuch, if in this vivid life 
Of our two spirits, so precisely set 
In correspondence that each lightest thought 
Was echoed back in happy emphasis, 
That the plain utterance and attributes 
Of others not so surely re-inforced, 
Should be but faintly felt and soon effaced. 

But slowly did a change grow manifest ; — 
A change so fine, impalpable indeed, 
That twilight's rare and subtly-moving mists 
Could scarce have noted it by sorcery. 
Would a cloud's shadow weight a swallow's wing. 
And make a serious accident of flight ? — 
So little was our coming ill first felt. 
It must be that some faculty of love 
Is baffled in our mortal atmosphere. 
Ere Imitation can find any room 
To set her earthly mirrors in, and fling 
Into the mingled lucence of two souls, 
Dim, haunting shadows of the incomplete ; — 
Hints of the human, common, fallible. 
And maddening phantoms of the world's wild way. 
The bond was not so close that foreigners 
Crossed not the boundaries of our crystal world. 
But rather were brought in, because of want 
In our own fairy populace ; while these 
Were driven forth. It seemed my lover now 



THE WHOLE TRUTH. Ill 

Was not content with all our love had stored 

In secret, in the heart's pure cabinets, 

But did require the meaner pleasure, too, 

Of boldly spending all again. But this 

I saw not then, nor truly did he see. 

One day you left me unexpectedly ; 

And when he came again, a different look 

He gave me, and his face was strangely changed ; 

No more his looks did join themselves to mine, 

That both might turn in double power toward Heaven, 

But they opposed them, — stopped abruptly there. 

As though their faulty aim was fully reached. 

His glowing eyes seemed set in emptiness — 

So great the longing in them, and his face 

Did pale and slowly unto whiteness turn. 

As though the soul's white light must gradually 

Be all transferred to it, before he dared 

To speak the new word growing in the lips. 

And thus the word was spoke : one day he came 
And stood long time in silence by my side, 
Then forced the fierce words forth unwarningly : 
'■He has the whole of life, give me one dax!'' 
I rose and stood away, but instantly 
He fell upon his knees in front of me, 
Crying 'One day ! one day ! one day !' But I 
Would hear no more, and ran from him in fear ; 
And hid myself; and saw him not for days. 



112 THE WHOLE TRUTH. 

But ever was I closely canopied 

With echo of that sad conjuring cry ; 

Yea ! it was writ upon the walls, and lay 

Upon the floor to thrill my very feet 

Whene'er I walked. Some wizard wall did shut 

This one thought from all other thoughts, until 

It seemed a burning island in a mental waste, 

And only one could build the saving mole, 

To bind it back unto the continent 

Of universal thought and sanity ; 

And he was ever at my door in wait. 

But quickly will I tell the rest that fell ; 
Disguised I met him e'er the day was near. 
And rode afar, before the glowing moon 
Had coyly put her morning wimple on ; — 
Rode swiftly down the eastern slopes of night 
And up the grand crescendo of the dawn. 
Until we reached an unknown wood, and there 
Upon its margin did await the day. 
Then spoke he, and his sweet, expressive eyes 
Did seem to follow all his forceful words 
To my heart's door, as might, in sooth, attend 
Some holy handmaids on divinity. 
'For this one day,' he said, T would that thou 
Shouldst love me only and exclusively. 
Until all other loves, all other men, 
The world itself to misty softness turn, 



THE WHOLE TRUTH. 113 

Becoming but the unseen fragrance shed 

From out the visible, red rose of love. 

Then I will show thee my heart openly, 

And I will teach thee, sweet, to reconstruct 

The world in quivering forms of its own longings.' 

Then as the sun was rising, tenderly. 

With smiles he mooted where the day began ; 

Whether the place might be the upper rim 

Of the sun, or lower ; whether her first flight 

Was over or beneath that burning sphere ; — 

One doubting moment — then we faced the wood. 

At midday, looking through the trees, he said, 
'See how the sun doth aid the stooping day, 
Lifting the arches of her crystal cave, 
That, standing at full height, her haloed head 
May touch the mark of noon.' At night he said, 
Watching the sun go down, 'See, as he sinks, 
That quick, black dragon of the sea of night 
Leaps upward fiercely to his drooping breast.' 
And speaking so, his last kiss likewise sank 
I^elow the flushed horizon of my lips. 
Which nevermore in all my life should glow 
\Vith passage of those burning spheres of love, 
Sun-risen in his heart, sun-set in mine. 
I saw not that they soon should rise again. 
Ejected from the sickened heart, and stained 
With its red blood, like dreadful portents, cross 



114 THE WHOLE TRUTH. 

The dull, bare skies of hateful after-days, 
In cruel iteration of my sin. 

What need to speak of the return ? What need 
To speak his name? he named himself anew 
For that one day, and swore his old name was not fit 
To mate with such a joy ; and called the new 
To Heaven, that in the first amaze of death 
He might be greeted by it, and so called forever. 

Being at home, at first there was no change in me ; 
You came not back, my lover came not near. 
The life within, still heavy and o'ercharged 
With dangerous chemic fulminants which gave 
Explosive splendor to it, still controlled. 
As stronger than the steady light outside. 
That lawless, daring day, too large at first, 
Dilated with the growth of time, until 
It seemed 'twould ever dome the temple built 
Of common days, and through its riot-wrought 
And crystal- prisoned hues and traceries, 
Give colors and delicious light to life. 
But 'twas a day misplaced and overstrained 
With burden of too strong significance. 
One day alone, can crown the whole of life. 
And that, the last, which Death shall hold for us, 
And help us work our final fancies on. 

My lover came not near, and it grew hard 
To hold that magic vault of interwoven joys 



THE WHOLE TRUTH. 115 

Above the single pillar of my heart, 

The other fair and fellow column gone. 

Each morning was the waxing of a hope, 

Each night its withering ; the full world shrank 

Around my spirit's sad impoverishment ; 

The sun rose dwarfed above the lowered hills, 

For want of him, and every sweet of day 

Was lessened by the absence of his face ; 

And everything in Nature's catalogue 

Of dear, delicious beauties, seemed to bear 

A broad, black scar, where erst, incorporate. 

The increase of his radiant image lay. 

Dimmer the world grew ; now, no more the light 

Was strong enough to show the finest shapes 

Hiding behind the garments of the visible ; 

And those fair phantoms of imagined glory. 

Created by the double working force 

Of interblending spirits, now recoiled 

And faded in the far, unfollowed glooms. 

The earth was at my door ! and he who first 

Had closed the golden bolt, had gone away 

And left the fatal door unbarred, and me 

Defenceless from the rough intruder there. 

Sometimes I would not watch, remembering 
How unannounced he first stood at my side ; 
And fancying that, soothly, even now 
He was endeavoring to reconstruct 



IIG THE WHOLE TRUTH. 

That lone and devious highway of surprise 

Between the hedges of my close-set looks, 

Which he had laid before unto the marge 

Of my unwatchfulness. Nay, then 'twould seem 

That only in the common, open avenues, 

Could he again come near me ; all the world 

Had been transfused with our wild, burning love, 

And there no more remained the unseen things, — 

Illusive beauty, dear obscurity, 

And shy, veiled essence of delightfulness, 

To work surprise with, but with bold acclaim 

Of every sentient thing and rabble cry 

Of guilty memories, would his approach 

Be coarsely heralded. 

And then I knew 
He would not come again ; that he would wait, 
Till in the fine and stainless elements 
Of some new world, he'd work that wonder o'er 
And find me subtly-conscious, yet surprised. 
And then a new mood mastered me, and gave 
A new sign unto my clairvoyant heart. 
He would not come again ; he therefore must 
Be going farther from me every hour ; 
And all this ebb of light and splendrous life. 
Was but his footstep far within the dark. 
How, what our two souls had made right, was now 
A growing guilt to my unaided soul. 



THE WHOLE TRUTH. 117 

And could not be enforced to radiancy 

By its lone light ! Oh, how inexorably 

Condensed in pain and resolidified 

The actual world to old familiar shapes, 

Which had dissolved and been etheriahzed 

In our love's fervency ! How far from me 

Must he have traveled certainly, to make 

Those mountains take again material ways ! 

How far, before that bare field, half way down 

Their pliant side, seemed not the open page 

Of some Titanic register, wherein 

All floating wonders of the air inscribed 

Their names, in passing, but again became 

The highest record of the tide of toil ! 

How far, before that highway 'cross the vale 

Let pass dim memories of the common flood 

That flowed there ere his coming struck away 

All footprints save his own, and lifted up 

A purged way towards the heavens ! But how far. 

How very far, was he before the walls 

Of my own room unveiled the pictured things 

Upon them, -and revealed, close to my eyes, 

Your portrait hanging there with life in it ! 

. You tell me I was sick when you came home, 
And that which followed, from the hour I saw 
Your face come back unhindered to the wall, 
Was but the natural sequence of the shock 



118 THE WHOLE TRUTH. 

Which flung the eerie flambeaux of the mind, 

From their precise adjustment with the sight 

Confusedly upon it. Yet, how small 

The exposition for so vast a fact ! 

No ! No ! for those few weeks of earthly time 

My soul was recommitted to the elements, 

And lived out eons of majestic suffering. 

Ages I lay beside a stream of fire, 

With both stained hands plunged in to burn them pure ; 

For centuries, my lips did spout hot springs, 

And still remained unclean ; for longer time 

Than earth's most lengthened records mark, 

I groped through gloomy space, in wild, waste search 

For something nameless but imperative ; 

And every star I neared grew dark and sank 

As though it were a stone, till I would rend 

My breast, and with my frenzied fingers 

Tear away the coverings of my outraged heart, — 

To let a black stream forth which only drained 

An ever-filling sin, and poured its fatal tide 

'Cross countless leagues of sky immaculate. 

To mingle with the Milky Way and turn 

Its lustrous currents to another Styx. 

At last, upon some dread and desolate strand, 

Amid the wrecks of stars and dreary drift 

Of noble enterprises cast 'gainst spite. 

It seemed that I did die or fall asleep ; 

The next I knew, was you beside my bed, 

Physician-like, with fingers on my pulse. 



THE WHOLE TRUTH. 119 

How curiously I watched you those first days ! 
I could not understand your look of youth ; 
Nor why you kept attendance at my side. 
Why was your hair not white — as mine must be — 
And face all written o'er in age's script 
By age's shaking hand ? Why had you still 
A memory of her who slipped away 
So long ago ? That clock upon the wall, 
Whose tick was still so fresh, — had it in truth, 
for all these years been breaking stony time 
Upon the highway of corporeal change. 
And still worked on unworn ? It could not be ! 
But it and you and every earthly thing 
Had stopped, and waited till my swift race ceased. 

Then all that had been e'er my race began, 
My perfidy, dishonor and despair ; 
All which that weary flight through space 
Had borne me farther from, was new to you ; — 
Was even yet so new, perhaps the mind 
Had not sent judgment to the waiting hand ; 
Nay, why not e'en so new that no account 
Had yet been carried to the judging mind ? 
Oh, fatal power of thought ! only to see 
The new in you did make the neiv in me ; 
And on the apex of the stalk of pain 
My sin's red flower bloomed out suddenly. 
A sudden tumult in the brain — Hope's touch — 



120 THE WHOLE TKUTH. 

Fear's evil sorcery ; or simply there 
Was just uncovered by that passing flood 
Some hidden force imbedded in the mind ; 
When lo ! there lay a thing unseen before ; 
'Twas new deceit ; I seized it and deceived. 

First thought I of that magic room which you 
Had left me guardian of while you were gone, — 
The chamber of our coupled lives, enriched 
With joint creations of converging minds ; 
Now, like a hollow shell, it lay despoiled 
Upon that shore from which love ebbed away, 
liolding but ghostly murmurs of the past. 
How quickly I invented counterfeits, 
To garnish over those weird, empty walls ! 
Afraid, that by some subtly-knowing smile. 
Some reminiscent look or secret word, 
You might make cjuick demand of my false heart. 
To show some bauble of the scattered charge. 
How cunningly I strove to cheat your eyes, 
And baffle all the cunning of the heart, 
By my assumptions and false attitudes ! 
Oft-times I would clothe common things in Love's 
Habihments ; say, 'This and this is Love, 
And thus have I seen Love look many times ; ' 
Maligning Love with false resemblances. 
Lest you might really know how fair she was. 
And what a false pretender then was I. 



THE WHOLE TRUTH. 121 

From then to now my aim has been to dupe — 
To break the truth and shape the parts to Hes ; 
But every He that showed smooth face to you, 
Did have a sharp side pressed against my heart. 
Say, 'twas not all in vain ! say that from out 
Those black and biting mists of noxious thought, 
One pure drop of joy was yet distilled, 
To give you just one moment's blessedness ; — 
And I will swear each lie was very good, 
And Heaven shall hold it e'en as righteousness ! 

f'ut what shall I say there about my sin, — 
The love, and that whereto it lead? The love, — 
That was of God ; the error comprehends 
The form it took. The common, human mould ; — 
A\'ho has prepared it and concealed the thing 
Under illusion and the subtle net 
Of mystic longings towards the infinite ? 
I own not that I loved my love too much ; 
My fault was that I loved him not enough ; 
Our neighboring spirits could not quite burn through 
The barriers of coarse, earthly habitude ; 
And through the charred and shapeless aperture, 
Caught only broken views and fickle fallacies 
Of sight, in place of fullest revelation 
Of each immortal countenance, with all 
Its true, divine expression unmistakable. 
A little more of love, — he would have seen 



122 THE WHOLE TRUTH. 

Your shadow on my face ; he would have seen 

Mine eyes had been indentured unto thine 

To give them joy ; he had not failed to know 

That all the twice-enkindled and abounding light, 

Wherein our hearts did lie, like ruby sprites 

That bathe in floods of bleachen pearl, should fall 

On thee for yet a little time, until 

Thy heart dici feel the double love in it, 

And be advised thus, soon and painlessly, 

Of that full life of highest excellence 

Which we had found without thy heart's consent. 

Or contribution of its slightest beat, 

But yet was drained of its supremest joys 

To pay a wrongful tribute to thee. Then 

Thou hadst been fortified against the loss 

Of faulty fellowship, by seeing rise 

The luminous shadow of the needed one 

Thou wouldst go search for. 

Pardon me, lone man. 
That I have been but only pity's shade 
Beside thy loneliness ! give me this praise. 
That there was grief within my grief, because 
Your heart did topple like a leaning tower. 
Being unpropped by other, fellow heart ! 
. God will not blame me that I could not love, 
But that, what time I loved, my radiant love 
Did not so beat on thee, and thee illume. 



THE IVHOLE TRUTH. 123 

That the fine Hnes of my enscriptured pledge 

Had not grown dim or obsolete, until 

The rightful sanction of thine own free choice, 

And magic of the moving truth in thee, 

Did brush it off. Had I not done thee wrong. 

How easily ! I might have taught thee this ; 

Had I not shadowed thee with shame. 

How soon ! thou wouldst have learned it for thyself. 

pardon me now, for truth's sake, though the truth 
Is bitter, being over-kept within 
The airless damps of my long reticence. 
And at the last, mayhap, is told amiss ! 
Pardon me now, for love's sake, though my love 
Was hatred to thine honor for a day ! 
Be not too wroth, nor suffer over much, 
Lest fear shall make me falter before God !" 

Here ceased the writing, but the reader ceased 
Not yet his weeping, though he many times 
I )id kiss the sheet with tender reverence. 
And murmured brokenly, 'Toor penitent, 
Thy pardon is already five years old. 
And was dispatched to Heaven the very hour 
I heard the story from thy raving lips ; 
Be thou assured ! Too much have I been blessed 
Having the time-touch of so fine a hand as thine !" 



LOVE IN THE LIGHT. 



O Love, stand forth from the midst of the others, 
Who are mimicking thee with irreverent eyes, . 

And the shadow-gloom of whose hinderance smothers 
The light that of right on thy sweet face lies. 

But vermilion the cumbrous shadow of one is, 
And it heavily droops till it lies in thy way ; 

And it clasps thee low down as at earliest sunrise 

The low-kneeling Dawn clasps the white knees of Day. 

Is it true, as they say, that the drift of the spirit 

Has heaped thy white breasts like the sands on the 
beach. 

When the hot land-winds blow o'er it and sear it? 

Do the bones of our heart's dead lie there and bleach ? 

Nay, rather declare, as thy smiling avouches, 
They are sacred guests of thine innocency. 

Who are resting in peace on their ivory couches ; — 
There are three of you now whom I see. 



LOVE IN THE LIGHT. 125 

Thine eyes are not domes of the impious temples 
Whose altcars with sinfulest sacrifice reek ; 

But, instead, they are only the sweetest examples 
Of holiest height and sun-pointed peak, 

^^'here the fearless explorer easily rallies 
The fairy-like train of his soul's retinue, 

That has lingered too long in the slumberous valleys, 
Where the foliage droops with a sweet-scented dew. 

Like ripples of wine in an ov^er-fiUed beaker 
Are thy lips that revive all that sickens in me ; 

Not as quicksands are they to the Infinite-seeker 
Who is lured by the pink shells cast from the sea. 

Thy brow doth resemble the far, west horizon 

When the sun has left nought but his breath in the air, 

While another sun lays his etherial dyes on 
The changeable mists interfusing thy hair. 

How thy breath doth dissolve, like a sky-filtered ether. 
The smoke-breath of Passion still near to thy feet ! 

Which is thick from the fires which mortals be(iueath her, 
When they die with their heart's flame still incomplete. 

Oh, how animate ! art thou though thou art standing, 
And my slow heart exulteth to keep pace with thee, 



126 LOVE IN THE LIGHT. 

As thou trainest my feet tu obey thy commanding, 
And old Lethargy taketh his mantle from me. 

Elixirs do flow in the founts of thy being ; 

And thy heart is the sheath of a delicate star, 
Which distilled fire's essence ever is freeing. 

And beating to concurrent galaxies far. 

How divine is thy power ! which so easily foileth 
The art of thy foes and pain's sharpest pangs ; 

And when round us the Night like ablack serpent coileth, 
With what cunning of hand thou drawest the fangs ! 

And his scaly skin thy magic art turneth, 

By an instant touch, to the swan's neck of Day, 

Where supernal joy its white light ever burneth, 
Till it seemeth the curve of a heavenly way. 

Of all who have visited us from a far sphere, 
Thou alone doth retain thy natural dress ; 

And bringest the glow of thy untarnished star-gear, 
Which loseth no light in the dark of distress. 

For thou only couldst carry beauty's vast burden 

Through the measureless flight and the infinite space, 

Till thou gainest a world for thy unequalled guerdon, 
And givest an infinite joy to a race. 



LOVE IN THE LIGHT. 127 

And thou art become our world's guide and pathfinder ; 

And the golden spade of thy office is held 
In thy firm right hand, as a faithfial reminder 

Of the highways unbuilt and the regions unquelled. 

But an errorless map of the heart-country pathless, 
Thou dost hold in thy left hand close to thy breast ; 

And through desert or jungle thou travelest scathless 
To the heart that faints for thy gentle behest. 

But lo, thou art gone ; yet, again, I have found thee ! 

And thy shadow I see upon Death's darkened wall ! 
And I hear the soft leaves as they rustle around thee, 

From the other side where thy singing doth call. 



THE LOST CLUE. 



Can sound be linked to sunbeams ? or the hearts 
Of men be tethered to a god's desire? 
Surely, some god hath passed too near, and I 
Must ever follow, charmed and dreamily, 
As in his wake the drafted stars might roll. 
Or is this thought a mask of madness only ? 
May it not be a phosphorescent film 
Over the shallow sea whereon I float, 
Hiding the hideous monsters of my brain's 
Profound disease, until they are full grown ? 
What man before, so daring that he scorned 
The pole-star's fixed and servile intlicator? 
Denied that there was north or south or east 
Or west to human destiny, but made 
His life the flaming center of a bold 
And radiant purpose, which insphered in light 
All human kind ? 

The lily of my hope, 
It seems, had risen high above its root. 
And spread the petals of its vast intent 
Upon the waters of some life divine : 



THE LOST club:. 129 

My thought has been to do some mighty deed, 

Which would include all men in its effects, 

And show a man's full power unto men. 

That dream I had so very long ago,' 

\Vhen I seemed standing by the loud sea's shore 

And a soft, subtle voice, not like mine own 

Nor issuing from the heavy lips, and yet 

Pulse-driven from the vocal heart, did flow 

Away from me unlessening, until. 

On-swelling to most distant worlds, it drew 

Sweet answers from them ; — was it then, I ask 

But the mere phantom of night-feeble eyes ? 

Or rather of such stable elements. 

And of such large extent as fronts unharmed 

The full puissance of the waking life ? 

Where'er this purpose had its secret rise. 

It now is stabUshed on each sovereign peak 

And prominence of strong material life. 

With bed-rock of experience underneath. 

I find each man is likened unto all, 

And dare not doubt but that there is a way 

For each to send impression of himself 

Unto the rest. And therefore have I made 

Long search among the mystic agencies 

Which, widely scattered and unused, weigh down 

The glimmering floors of inner consciousness, 

For hint of that, — the universal voice — 

The universal deed, which I required. 



130 THE LOST CLUE. 

Again, for long hours have I, anxious, sat 
Beside the gate of the Unseen, with none 
Save those twin-sisters who its warders are, 
Silence and Solitude, for company ; 
While they would cast upon my quiet heart 
Their shadows lined with light etherial, 
And, with a world-oblivious touch, would close 
Each open pore and earth-stained aperture 
Which might leak excellence ; but all in vain ; 
For I was still unhelped in my design. 
Then I have passed long time 'mongst men to watch, 
In stealth, their meetings and voice-interchange, 
Habits of speech and speech's accidents. 
Contact of common word, or the blind touch 
Of unaccustomed rage ; for some dim sign 
Of that self-ligature which leashed their thought 
Unto an aim so near, or that repulse 
Of counteracting wills which stifled it ; 
But nothing have I gained save strength of hope. 
And though I still can speak but brokenly, 
Or act but weakly as the others do, 
Yet have I found it good to make the search. 



AGAINST THE WIND. 



Hear the wind blow ! 
Let it go, 
Bearing rain, 
Bearing snow. 
Loss or gain : 
Never chase it ! 
Only face it ! 
Cry, hollo ! 

Seek for its source ! 
Measure its force ! 

It can tear 

From thy hold, 

But the bare, 

And the old. 

Still thou hast 

What is best : — 
Never care ! 

Behind is but drift ; 
Before a rich gift ; 
Haste along ! 
Though breathless the pace, 



l;52 AGAINST THE WIND. 

There is breath for a song ! 

There is heart for a race ! 
Quicker meet 
The new sweet, 
Or the wrong ! 

How flies from the mind 
What maketh one bhnd ! 
From the heart, 
The causes of fear ! 
A fresh start ! 
Now the end is so near. 
Gods invite 
Whom they smite ; — 
Give a cheer ! 



A PRAYER TO MORNING. 



Morning, sole fugitive of earth's First Day, 

Who dwellest still in the Beginning, 
Between the light and darkness hid away — 

Pursuit but feints and flushes winning — 
A simple boon I ask, in simple lay ; — 

Waken not all who now in slumber lie. 

But spare thou some, and, Morning pass them by. 

What is the charm wherewith thou wakest man? 

Drain'st thou the stars to water his dry heart ! 
Or do thine eyes which sunsets never scan, 

By simply bidding, make the night depart? 
Whate'er thy power is, be this thy plan ; — 

Search thou all hearts while yet in sleep they lie. 

If some are still aweary, pass them by. 

Sleep hath so brief a time to work her will ; 

( irief works so fast, and hath such lengthened days ; 
Though to the sorrows which the heart o'erfiU 

Night saith ; "Ye are but phantoms, truant fays. 
Come ! follow me unto my home's dark sill," 

Yet shall some waking eyes burn as with lye ; 

Morning, in mercy, simply pass them by. 



134 A PRAYER TO MORNING. 

But there are some who, wakened, look so far, 

That day seems but a Ught spot at their feet ; 
Whose hearts are bruised against the sunset's bar, 

And sleep is death unto some vision sweet, 
And blots the hope of things which never are ; — 

To such, a double gift do not deny, 

Or, Morning, show them grace and pass them by. 

And, Morning, take thou heed ! there be a few 
Who find the flood of sleep a shallow stream ; 

Whose souls are still erect as first they grew. 
And are not all submerged as others seem; 

One such I know ; and, if thou dost not view 
Some spot awake whene'er thou drawest nigh. 
Then, Morning, weep and slowly pass me by. 



THE MODEL. 



See, how the Ught refines itself upon her ! 

As her diffusive beauties fill the air : 
How golden faeries gather in her honor, 

And make a circle round her charmed chair ! 
That, as she chastely sits. 
No evil thing that flits 
Shall come anigh her there. 

Unlike to thought is her long revery ; 
And yet there may about her cling 
Some touch of Thought's last poise and spring 

Upon his dusty boundary, 
Which lightly sways her now — 

A land-breeze blowing her to sea — 
While on her peaceful brow, 
The growing glory of supernal scenes 
Slow supervenes. 

Think not that they who purely trust 

• The eager vision of the universe, 
See not beyond the eye of lust ; 

Nor know, before they swift disperse, 



136 THE MODEL. 

The forms of free -winged purities, 

Which flutter, shadow-wise, 
Round secret-holding eyes, 
ConceaUng all their ecstasies. 

Nay ! they shall win in faery races, 
And snatch the veils from angel faces. 

Nor anywhere be blind ; 
For eyes not bent in backward glances, 
A forward force of seeing find. 

Which, past the common, still advances 
Into the land where sight is unconfined ; 
Where holiest truths are ever common, 
And sweet scenes summon. 

Doth now she see or dream ? 
From which side of the soul 
Do these scenes roll ? 
For it doth seem. 
That as a babe upon her mother's breast 
She lies in infantile content ; 

And for her nourishment — 
As beauty's holy eucharist — 
That mother passes back and forth her hand, 
And wondrous pictures in her sight do stand 
And while she still is seeing, 
The sight grows into being 
Till she is twin with her who feeds ; 
And, sisterly, they wander now at will 



THE MODEL. 137 

In glorious meads ; 
Pass groves whose coolness has no damp or chill, 

And streams whose waters do so smoothly glide, 
That images that fall there e'er abide. 

But in her heart a silent sorrow grew, 
Because, among the radiant beings there, 

Some did not look on her, nor knew 
Her presence, nor, with what despair. 

Her heart did beat her beauty in their faces, 
Or fling before their feet her newest graces; 

Till near she seemed to death ; 
When her companion said unto her : "See !" 

And far away she saw, with bated breath. 
One coming towards her potently : 

A glorious mien he had, and, o'er his head, 
A star blazed which illumed his way ; 

And coming straight to her he calmly said : 
"I see thee as thou art, and, from this day, 

Thou art mine own and shall be seen of all, 
Since thou art seen by I,ove who is perpetual." 

Surely she did dream ; 
For now the joyous painter comes to her. 
Holding a canvas whereon naught doth err. 
And all her beauties beam : 
"Waken thou perfect one," 
He said, "the work is done : 

See ! 
I have painted thee." 



AN ARROWHEAD. 



Sole relic of a race which once was here, 

And broke earth's olden solitudes before 
A gentler people gained her friendly ear ; 

With lengthened histories art thou written o'er — 
Thou who wert wrought to bear in flinty text 

A passioned moment's keen and forceful score — 
With what hast thou death's dusky hollows vexed, 
That back upon the summits of the world 
These ghostly shapes are numerously hurled ! 

O wild, first children of earth's ecstasies ! 

Brood of a bird who built her nest in storms ; 
Whose lullabies were roared from off the seas. 

Or thunder-dropped from tempests to the arms 
Of boisterous spirits neighboring in woods : 

The thought of you old Nature's heart new-warms, 
And calls her from those calm and silent moods. 

Wherein, with finer forces, she doth now create 
The modern man who knows to conquer hate. 

Where hast thou lain concealed these hundred years. 
Dark piece of flint? who bent the bidding bow 



AN ARROWHEAD. 139 

Which sent thee forth — guide of a flock of fears? 

Perhaps some fiery youth but made a show 
Of his new prowess ; or some chieftain hoar 
His wild rage loosened thus against his foe, 
Who bore thee in his heart to Pluto's shore, 
And, with a bow 
Slow-builded from a century's arc of pain, 
Sends his kept hate back upon the earth again. 



PEACE IS BUT WEAKNESS OF SPIRIT. 



Peace is but weakness of spirit ; 

Rest but the sleep of decision ; 
Sleep but a death-fall or near it, — 

Divinities' scorn and derision. 

Is all your desire conceded 

By the powers of giving and keeping? 
Your longing never impeded ? — 

A road to be traversed with leaping ? 

Build thou thy bed at its ending, 
On the further side of denying ; 

Rest there, and gods while attending. 
Shall guard and hallow thy lying. 



MORNING SONG. 



Wake ! wake, my dreamer, wake ! 
Let Sleep no longer slake 
His thirst in thy full heart, 
But, satisfied, depart, 
For my lips' sake ; 
Wake ! Wake ! 

Rise 1 rise ! the day is near ! 
Long since, each crimson pier 
Was built for her pure arch ; — 
List ! hearest thou not the march 
Below the skies ? 
Rise ! Rise ! 

O let the Day's swift race 
Begin from thy pure face ! 
And let that be her goal. 
To make my gladness whole ! 
No minute waste ! 
Haste ! Haste ! 



THE BRIDEGROOM. 



Here I sit, locked safe in my room again ! 

How well I have fooled them, priest. Jack and 'Light ! 
By the seat in the elm and the uncloaked pane, 

Was I truly as one at the rite ; 
Though I marvel to think I endured the strain. 

She is mine and not his by Love's own law. 
Since her joy would last if she came to me. 

Though for me she thinks she cares not a straw. 
Her eyes are so veiled that she may not see 

The right of my claim and his false title's flaw. 

But I've married her fast in spite of them all ; 

Each promise I made ere his slow tongue spoke ; 
And ere he had slipped on her finger small 

The circlet of gold, with a mystic yoke, 
I had girded her spirit beyond recall. 

And a husband's faith I will keep with her, 
Though another roof is above her head ; — 

From my chair this night I will never stir. 
Lest if once I should lie on my brideless bed 

Hot tears those magic espousals should blur. 



THE BRIDEGROOM. 143 

So here will I sit and transmute, till the sun, 
Love's common modes to immortal ways j 

To-night must this magical work be done ; 
For to-morrow then and all her future days, 

Her perfect soul by such arts shall be won. 

Let him have her at night then, if he will, 

When her eyes are closed and her spirit dull ; 

For the days she is mine, when life doth thrill 
Her lids apart, and her heart is full 

Of delights which the brutal night shall spill. 

The time shall come, aye ' it soon shall be here, 
When the subtle bond to her heart is known. 

And the truths of Love shall indeed appear ; — 
She may dream some night that she sees her own, 

And shall wake o^tx Jack's strange face with fear. 

Or if not so soon from her heart is cast 

The dusk which divideth its white and red, 

Yet when Death shall call to her, going past, 
Though Jack shall be standing close to her bed, 

As she goes, my face will she look upon last. 



THE LOST FLOWER. 



I cannot say how first I knew 

Of that lost flower ; 
Whether old legend left some clue, 

In childish hour, 
^V'hich I have followed as I grew ; 
Or other flowers of some great loss 
Have whispered e'en mine ear across ; — - 
Yet well I know that once was snatched 
From earthly fields a flower unmatched. 

And I have heard or dreamed or guessed 

It thus befell. 
That of all flowers the first, the best 

Of field or dell, 
Was borne from reach of human (juest ; — 
A mighty prayer which once was prayed, 
Like that by Laodamia made. 
Wrought this great marvel o'er the earth 
And dimmed for after times its worth. 

A woman by her husband's tomb. 

In ceaseless grief, 
So sent her longing through the gloom. 



THE LOST FLOWER. 145 

So sought relief, 
That all the flowers then in bloom 
Did, sorrowing, with her kneel, 
And urged her iterate appeal ; — 
"Send him not back along the skies, 
But give one word from Paradise." 

The gods were moved, but first demand — 

Despite their cries — 
The fairest member of their band. 

For sacrifice ; 
And they turned not that dread command. 
Thus was there taken, for all time, 
The sweetest flower of purest clime. 
To be translated to a word 
Which by one soul alone was heard. 



A HOMELY FACE. 



A homely face I sometimes meet — 

A woman's face that should be sweet ; 

Pain's spectral hand doth touch my heart, 

And vague tones from its hollows start, 

As I pass by, with swifter feet, 

The homely face that should be sweet. 

Darkly I feel, as down the street 

Some fairer face I chance to meet, 

That highest wrong was somewhere done. 

Upon that hapless, passing one 

(A wrong that 'gainst the soul doth beat), 

Which homely made what should be sweet. 

The hand divine knows no defeat, 
And still doth fashion all things meet ; 
But what most fair it doth create, 
Is set within an earthly state, 
Where beauty e'er must beauty greet. 
If fair shall last what should be sweet. 

The face starts fair ; but if it meet 
With life's coarse forms 'twill them repeat ; 
And loathsome labor, sordid aim, 
And hateful touch of deeds of shame. 
Shall make and mould with cunning fleet. 
The homely face that should be sweet. 



THE LEADER. 

Through toilsome ways the host moved on in might : 
The sun looked n6t upon their camp ; before 

His thinnest wedge was slipped between the night 
And their dream-laden hearts, they had once more, 

With their own force, the mighty burden raised, 
And set fresh foot upon some dusky steep : 

So late they rested, evening was amazed. 
And darkness wearied, waiting so for sleep. 

Sometimes the query ran along the line 

"Where is the enemy? doth he wait or run?" 

But when the leader heard he made no sign 

Still only gave the stern command "March on !" 

But nightly when the weary soldiers slept, 
Mysterious councils sat within his tent : 

The silent courier to his presence crept, 

And ere the dawn was on new missions bent. 

At last, upon a plain most opportune — 
What time the Day, in childish revery, 

Her sweets doth balance o'er the knee of Noon — 
The leader set his men for final victory. 



148 THE LEADER. 

"Behold the foe," he said, while from afar 
Came somids of singing and salutes of friends, 

And soon a host like to themselves drew near. 
And every man a friendly hand extends. 

Again the leader spoke, and on his face 
Benignant smiles built garrisons of peace. 

And old command was blent with newer grace ; 
And with his words all lingering murmurs cease. 

"A short march leadeth he who finds a foe 

For man in man ; there is but one long course ; 

It lies the way that all mankind must go: — 
Up ! and away again with double force." 



THE PERMANENT. 



What thing shall last ? — 
The tree that slowly mounts in light, 
Till the span of a thousand years it shows, 
And grasps from the last hour's blazing height 
Some prize it saw when it first arose ; 
More swiftly goes ; — 
It shall not last. 

What thing shall last ?— 
Temples and monuments of eld, 
Symbols of faith both in gods and men, 
Have fallen and gone with the names they held, 
And perfidy wanders where they have been ; 
Now darkens Then ; — 
These did not last. 

What thing shall last ? — 
Tempered in flame and sure of seat 
And his granite brow in scorn left bare, 
The mountain waits ; but there shall beat 

Time's change-sharp moments, and shall wear 
It past repair ; — 
That shall not last. 



150 THE PERMANENT. 



What thing shall last? — 
A sacred gift that one day rose 
From the soul I loved, when my love was told ; 
A smile ? a look ? Let him name it who knows, 
But it blent with my being, and behold ! 
Grows never old ; — 
This thing shall last. 



THE VEIL. 

I saw the bride in her veil ; 

(Where now is the bride?) 
Yet was not hid that face love-pale, 
Where timid smiles did full and fail. 

(Where now is the bride?) 

I saw the veil on the bride ; 

(Where now is the veil?) 
A woman sitteth weary-eyed. 
With face love-bare and heart denied. 

(Where now is the veil?) 



THE SOUTH WINDS. 



From the centre of the year, 

From the sun-warmed heart of growth ; 
From the toil of its beat anear, 

The weary winds come loth ; — 
Having no rest from their year-long labors, 

Nor any release from their fragrant loads, 
String-voiced with a murmur of tabors 

Caught in the long, slow forest roads ; 
Down-drooping with moisture, smitten with song. 

Come they northward along. 

From the depths of life they spring ; 

From the lips of spring as breath ; 
From the lord of earth their king, 

Words of toil they bring and a wreath ; 
For toil is constant where they come from, 

But Nature's toil, not man's, I mean ; 
Since often man has an idle palm 

When Nature herself is busiest seen ; 
For Nature and Sloth seem there in league, 

And Nature's toil is man's fatigue. 



THE SOUTH WINDS. 153 

But Nature wearies towards the North ; 

The weary winds, with faltering feet, 
Come and draw the white cloth forth 

From the workman's task still incomplete ; — 
They call to the workman, "Renew thy strokes !" 

While the streams in pity cry back " Hush ! " 
And trees behind their masking cloaks, 

Grow mute before the wild-birds gush ; — 
Man's sole reply is a sound of tools ; 

His sad heart owns that Labor rules. 



THE BLIND BIRD. 



A strange thing happened to me one day, 

As I walked afield in the early May ; 
I saw a bird all in crimson and black, 
Who followed with ease a white bird's track. 

While the white bird sang as though leading the way. 

The second bird, all in crimson and black. 
Had no song of his own as he followed the track, 
But often some strain of the sweet, singing guide 
He repeated with awe, in a gentle aside, 
As the tuneful strokes of his wings grew slack. 

But just as he passed, all in crimson and black. 
Fatigued, to the ground he fell downward, alack ! 
In my hand I took him, with piteous mind. 
And lo ! I beheld that my fair bird was blind ; — 
My bird who had followed the white bird's track. 



SONG. 



When hand doth touch a hand, 

Two hves may greet ; 
When folded hps expand 
like flowers in the sand, 
Upon the brows retreat ; 
Some words are meet. 

Upon the fertile cheek, 

Beneath the eye's fine heat, 

Lips sparkle as they speak, 
And tremble and intreat 
For place more sweet. 

When lips to Hps make four, 
Speech folds her wings ; 

And Music, hovering o'er, 
With rapture sings. 



LAMENT. 

Oh, what is the earth's endeavor, 
That it's work is yearly repeated ? 

And what is man's, that forever 
The work of his hands is defeated ; 

And the goal he strives to attain 

Must be reached again and again ? 

O Tabor, O cruelest Master ! 

Why sendest thy angels of wasting — 
Thy agents of woe and disaster — 

Corrupting the fruit at the tasting ; 
And setting a term to the plants of the field, 
And weaving ruin with all that they yield ? 



MISGIVINGS. 



Like parting lovers 

Thy lips part ; 
Like gentle rovers 

Loth to start. 
By breath of passion 

Never curled ; 
In thoughtful fashion 

Often furled. 
If kisses find them, 

Like a breeze, 
Shall they unwind them, 

If they please ? 
Or further bind them 

In their ease? 
If from their sleeping 

They are stirred, 
Does't follow weeping 

Shall be h-eard ? 
If love doth sever 

Lips peace-locked, 
By sighs and fever 

Are they rocked ? — 
Shall it be mine 

To trouble thine ? 



AN APOLOGUE. 



The seer gave unto the suppliant 

A tender plant having a double root ; 

Blessed him as was his righteous wont, 

And said, "Plant well, and great shall be the fruit. 

The seeker's prayer had been for happiness ; 

This gift the sole response the seer made ; 
But since, 'twas said, he did all joys possess, 

The suppliant was glad that he had prayed. 

Then he departed thankful to his home. 

And crossed his fields and found a lonely spot, 

Where richest herbage showed the fertile loam, 
There set his plant most carefully I wot. 

With stealthy frequency he sought the place, 
To watch the plantlet's steady growth ; 

But none he told ; he would its ripening^grace 
For him alone — to pluck and feast on both. 

A wondrous growth the curious plant revealed, 
x\nd soon became a great and shapely tree ; — 

So great, he feared it could not be concealed, 
And some one else its fairy fruit might see. 



AN APOLOGUE. 159 

As if in answer to his strong desire, 

Some spectral blossoms to its foliage came ; 

They seemed like shadows of some inner fire 
That could not waken into living flame. 

These quickly faded, and no fruit appeared ; 

The foiled leaves fell and empty branches died ; 
The man grew sick, as with a fever seared, 

To whom all cooling water was denied. 

At last, in his distress, he sought the sage. 

And told him what had happened to the tree ; 

Hoping the wise one would his pain assuage, 
By giving him some magic remedy. 

"O fool !" the sage responded to his suit ; 

"The plant I gave thee was a border plant ; 
'Plant 71',?//,' I said, 'and great shall be the fruit' ; 

But thou hast planted /// and all fruit want. 

Thou shouldst have set it by thy neighbni 's bounds ; 

Its double root asked food of double field ; 
It would not make the seasons' weary rounds 

Unless some fruit it might thy iieigh/>or yield." 



NO BEAUTY THERE. 



Is there a place where darkness doth not lay 
Her dewy mesh to snare the earliest ray ? — 
Where plants stand ever bare of that swift- fruit, 
Which needs no aid 
Of petal- spade 
About its root? — 
Then may one say and swear 
That Beauty was not there, 
If he would hope to shirk 
All blame for his poor work ; 
That earth was bare 
Of all things fair, 
Where he lived lone with care. 

Hath earth some hollow where the air-streams fail 
And perish, that the flowers spread no sail ; 
Until a vampire mould 
Consumes the fruity freight 
Stored in each fragrant hold ? 

Whoever liveth there 

May say and swear 

"It was my doom 
To see no flowers bloom 

Upon the air. 



NO BEAUTY THERE. J«l 

If one hath never seen a fair girl's eyes 
Burning love-beacons, till the red waves rise 
To put such fires out ; 
Nor stooped some tender words to hear, 
« And stilled his heart for very fear 
Its beat would put them all to rout ; — 
Why, he may urge the weak excuse, 
"There's nothing lovely for my use ; 
How could I work or rhyme 
In such a clime?" 

Is there a sky where clouds shall never sprall 
In sunlight's dreamy thrall, 
On seamless, easy floors? 

Nor wake to float 

In lucid rote, 
Aflush with the joy that soars? — 

Then let one loudly cry, 

"Pardon each idle year ; 

Art will not flourish here. 

And here live I." 

Is there a land where eyes can never close 
Except in sleep, and sleep bring no repose? 
Where the large spirit which the day has filled, 

Has all the flying views 

Which entered at those spiral avenues, 
By darkness spilled 



162 NO BEAUTY THERE. 

Ere they have rested wing? — 
"Then let one say for doing nought, 
I have lived there and life has taught 

No song to sing." 

Perha])s there be some house of sob or sigh, 
The shrinking stars will not pass by ; 
Or pass refusing 
Their clairvoyant musing, 
And their holy attributes? — 
If thou dost dwell in such, 
() silent, heavy one, 
Was there not still the sun, 
Of slender, pleasant touch ? 

Or dost thou grope where the communion light- 
The universal speech of all things bright — 
Tells not the river what the heavens say ; 
Tells not each tree his brother's history, 
With quiet voice and sweet prolixity, 
Nor carries subtle greetings far away ; — 
Then mayst thou lack the poet's speech, 
And truthfully declare, 
"Oh ! there was nothing fair 
Within my reach." 

Or hast thou always dwelt in caves, 
Where day about the threshold raves 



NO BEAUTY THERE. 163 

To thy mad ears ; 
Until the flowers that round her gleam 
As only Nature's frothings seem, 

Through thy false tears? — 
Then mayst thou say and swear, 
That Beauty was not there ; 
And thou shalt find excuse 
For all of song's disuse. 
If on thy darkened walls 
Her shadow never falls. 



SONNETS. 



SONNETS. 167 



TO H. M. A. 



Friend of my need ! I have not seen thy face ; 
Yet distance hath not power to wholly hide 
What man thou seeraest where thou dost abide. 

.Strange things are done within the deeps of space : 

Swift carriers run there, bearing every grace 
Which ever shone from man beatified : 
Rare mirrors are there set across which glide 

The shadowy figures of a perfect race. 

Friend of my heart ! with thee I have not met ; 

Yet through the day, thy name to me can bring 
Such visions of old saints, mine eyes grow wet : 

But in the eve, it doth a better thing : 
For then it seems the green branch of a tree 
Which night shall dew with dear expectancy. 



I»i8 SONNETS. 



TO J. E. L. 



I )isease, that, like a curious child, doth break 
The pebbles of our lives, hath broken thine ; 
And hath beheld the white-faced fragments shine. 
Benignant in the light of God, and take 
Immortal beauties for the fracture's sake ; 
As broken heavens of night their stars resign. 
Which through the day's completeness make no sign. 
But rare the blow which shall such glories make, 
Though blows should shatter every life that lies 

Upon the narrow beaches of this world; — 
Oh ! I would rather give to some glad eyes. 

One moment of thy gleaming, then be hurled 
Back to the ocean of eternal fullness, 
Than live, a rayless whole of polished dullness ! 



SONNETS. 169 



THE RUNNER. 



(died JANUARY 2 I ST, 1 884.) 

O wait, fleet runner of the unseen track, 

With snowy feet unsoiled by what they smite 
So lightly in their exquisite, puie flight ! 
Wait for me only, till I learn the knack 
Of running freely at thy swallow back ! 
For I am breathless, tired, and mine eyes 
Are so unused, dear one, to these bright skies. 
Temper thy speed, that I may never lack 
Thy footfall's singing sound ; nor fail at last, 
To have my heart beat so responsively, 
That mine own feet may feel the ecstasy 
(^f thine ; then fly thou slow or fly thou fast, 
I shall o'ertake thee," though I fall asleep ; 
I shall o'ertake thee early, though I creep. 



170 SONNETS. 



OLD NEW-YEAR'S DAY. 



Pale, patient day ! I doff the hat to thee, 

In pity of thy mute unnoticed woe. 

Who, seeing thee so humbled and so low, 
Thinks of the time when thou, sweet deputy, 
Stoodst forth alone the New Year first to see 

And serve, as she unwound her veil of snow. 

Flushing in all the Christmas afterglow. 
And glad of face, beheld humanity? 

Now when for twelve days she hath moved along 
The common paths of earth, hath seen joy die, 
Love lessen, wrath arise and dim the sky. 

And with her gift of life, men doing wrong ; 

In mourning garb, grief-drawn and tear-grimed face, 
She first meets thee and asks thy pity's grace. 



SONiVETS. 171 



BRAZIL. 



No longer is there doubt ! no more disguise ! 
Thou who wert lurking in the distant shade, 
Watching a farce by royal spectres played 

On rotten boards of coffined monarchies, 

Com'st forth at last with mirth about thine eyes, 
The true Brazil, a fair and noble maid, 
Who with the people laughed, with them delayed. 

To show the true way of Democracies. 

Men ask " Shall she abide? " Nay ! is there need 

Of blood and tears to charm thee to the land ? 

Or shall the people loathe a stainless hand ? 
Sooner than that ye twain shall part — take heed — 

Shall fires drink up again their blackest smoke ! 

Or tumult mend all dreams it ever broke ! 



172 SONNETS. 



THE TAKING TESTS THE SONG. 



If one would learn the worth of his own song, 

Its formal beauty and essential might ; 

Or would behold with consecrated sight, 
Its place of issue and the holy throng 
Which still unto that pure abode belong ; 

Let him unlock, with some soft, minor key, 

That chamber of his voice where his heart be, 
And mingling with its store the frequent, broad dipthong 
Of tender chords as sole accompaniment ; 

Go sing to one song- deaf from very birth 

The sorrow which constrains him or the mirth, 
Until their spirits are sufficient blent ; — 

Let him look after at the deaf one's face ; 

If that is stirred, his song hath, surely, grace. 



SONNETS. 173 



OPPOSED. 



Two hapless spirits were as east and west, 

Where, like opposing stars brightening their darts, 
They sent the passion of their scornful hearts 

Across the careless earth, peace-lover blest, 

Stationed between and mightily at rest. 
O Hate, why doth thy dumb immensity 
Divide so soon the souls that angry be ? 

Why must it be so far from breast to breast. 

When their opposing beats give a recoil ? 

Why may no power but Pain swim the abyss? — 

Ah ! if the sound our tears make when they fall 
Might cross, or sighs repentant lips dismiss 

Be ferried, somehow, to the other shore ; 

Who knows, but souls themselves might soon pass o'er? 



174 SONNETS. 



MIDSUMMER. 



This is the balance of all growing things ; 

And Nature now inspects her yellow scales 

Poised upon silence, and secure from gales : 
Against man's toil and care there fairly swings 
The equal value of his harvestings, 

In perfect plain of equal counter-weight ; 

As East and West when skies immaculate 
Unclasp each heavy cloud that to them clings. 

The mute alarms of Nature's noting cease ; 

She doth remember all the spring-time songs 
^^^hich freely fell, and counteth their increase ; — 

The scale dips gently to the heart that longs, 
Loaded with autumn's overplus of cheer, 
With hopes fulfilled, heart-calms and courage clear. 



SOAWETS. 175 



BETWEEN THE EARTH AND SUN. 



I. 
How many wondrous things, O sun ! have flown 

Between the earth and thee, this ample day ! 

How since the morn hast thou diverged away 
From earth, and tracked the morning stars alone, 
To let them through ! At first, to me was blown, 

As yet upon my bed I listening lay. 

A sound of barriers broken musically. 
And living streams that flowed in rapturous tone 
Over the shattered bars. Before mine eyes 

Passed breathless birds with furtive signs, 

The clouds that cloaked their gradual designs 
And airy marvels from o'erladen skies ; 

While oft I heard the whispering, unseen throng. 

Whose robes left fragrance as they passed along. 



176 SONNETS. 



BETWEEN THE EARTH AND SUN. 



II. 

O sun and earth ! the spaces that divide 
Your shores are full of radiant voyagers, 
Heaven-deserters and star-frequenters: 

The glories that upon your breasts abide, 

Are but the wreckage of that sacred tide — 

Shreds from the garments of that crowded line 
The light is but their banner's beauteous shine ; 

The winds but answer to their onward glide ; 

The varied hues that hourly fall and fade. 
Are only flashings of their searching eyne ; 
And heat the force they cannot all confine, 

Since in their hearts a boundless force is laid ; 
Music is echo of their onward flow, 
And love, the subtle, deathless undertow. 



SONNETS. 



MY SONGSTRESS. 



I cannot love those birds of shallow song 

• And painful consciousness, that perch aloft, 

And lightly, since the sun is warm, the air is soft, 
Rehearse some common melody so long. 
The sleep-curled ear heeds not the noisy throng 
That beat its cloistered ways with pebbly feet : 
I hate those birds of taut, bow-string conceit. 
Who force afar, alike on weak and strong. 
Their sharpened strains ; but I love well the one 
Who broodeth mutely in the impatient air, 
Bridging all space with silence, till most fair. 
Immortal songs get mingled with her own ; 
Then flies away to some dark cypress bower. 
And softly sings as one who counts her store. 



178 SONNETS. 



LOVE'S RETROSPECT. 



I 

When first I walked before thy strange abode, 
I marvel if the hollow of thy hand did not 
Appall thee, with a knowledge then begot, 

Of sudden emptiness that seemed a load ; 

Or yet if like a many stranded goad, 

The fingers did not meet the stricken palms. 

And lips then startled from their thoughtless calms, 

With keen presentiment of another mode. 

Rend suddenly the fabric of a smile 

Hung from their arches. Faileth every sign, 
Found in the earthly, seen in the divine, 

If then the runnels of thy heart, so smooth erewhile, 
Paused not acutely, at a spasm's stroke, 
As if with double currents they did choke. 



SONNETS. 179 



LOVE'S RETROSPECT. 



II 

It leads to wondering that no wood or stone 
Foretold my fortune to me ; that no token 
Was from the front of that swift rapture broken, 

And by some swifter wind to my heart blown ; 

That its dull reaches moved not for the coming one, 
Like boughs that quiver at the leaping song, 
As the bird singer flies with joy along 

To perch thereon ; that love and love alone, 

Lacks visible beginning, hath no bud 

Upon the stalk of change, but comes to all 
In primal perfectness ; that each may call 

This vital wonder from his pregnant blood. 
And no convulsions rend him bodily. 
To give it room and progress to reality. 



180 SONNETS. 



TO A NOBLE WOMAN. 



Goodness, dear lady, which flows often dim 
Through subterranean ways of other Uves, 
Springs to the Hght and pure refreshment gives 

In thee. But how may I that goodness limn? 

Since force of Springs by accidental rim 
Is measured not, how fair soe'er it be, 
But by the clouds which gather from the sea 

Its airy globes to strew with fingers slim 

Upon the careful sieve of earth. As long 
As seas shall toss upon their wakeful beds, 
And clouds shall watch beside their storm-swathed 
heads, 

To take from open hands — no longer strong — 
Escaping treasures ; shall thy good endure, 
Unmixed with brackish taste, or stain impure. 



SONNETS. 181 



TO A NOBLE WOMAN. 



11 
As far as music strays beyond its instrument, 
Or heat beyond the boundaries of flame ; 
As far as wrong out-runs dim-sighted blame, 
Or fragrance springeth past the pure extent 
Of flowers still closed, nor make the slightest rent 
In their scarce-wove appareUngs of light, 
Or far as beauties stretch beyond the sight ; — 
So far, upon the pinions of a pure intent, 
Thy goodness doth project its subtle force, 
Beyond the compass of the living fact ; — 
Breaks from the word, out-runneth e'en the act, 
O'ertaking too the smile upon its course ; 

And meets with nought which shall not swift obey. 
Because in thine own heart obedience lay. 



182 SONNETS. 



TO A NOBLE WOMAN. 



Kindness enfolds thy spirit's gracious form, 
As heaven's blue transparency a star ; 
No drop of acid shall such fabric mar, 
Nor shall it ever come to any harm 
From beak of flame or talons of the storm ; 
And Hate shall throw her vitriol at thy face 
And make no scar ; for to thy lofty place 
Cometh no hurt nor even vague alarm : 
Secure thou restest where no foes impugn, 

Like some fair, foam-like cloud, beheld at even, 
Alone, far up the ample beach of heaven — 
There where the sun did meet the fatal noon — 
To show supremely to our upturned eyes. 
How high the lucid tides of day did rise. 



SONNETS. 183 



WHITE CLOVER. 



Ah ! prim, pale sisters, so erect beside 

Your ruddy brothers lounging lazily ! 

What holds you ever in that upright way ? 
Has Fear's white sceptre brushed your forms and dried 
The stream of motion wholly at flood-tide ! 

But Fear, the leaper, never left your calms ; 

The scattered realms he rules with palsied palms, 
But in the crevices of Courage bide, 
And they are far apart. Nor does it seem 

That Prayer who strains on tip-toe for her gains, 

Could show your peaceful poverty of pains. 
Methinks you went to pray, but that a dream 

Of maiden love displaced the prayerful mood, 

Tinted the cheek and eased the attitude. 



184 SONNE TS. 



SECOND CHILDHOOD. 



Bees circle round unopened flowers, and seem 
To build new barriers about the old, 
The fairy dwellers there again to hold. 
When sunlight's ransom doth their souls redeem, 
And every curven rafter, board and beam 
Of their pure prisons, turneth to a door, — 
Their marble walls bend backward to a floor. 
Thus we, approaching slow the life supreme. 
Find sleep expanding only to a dream 
By the first rending of the walls of sense ; 
The full awaking and the sight immense 
And last inspired touches to the theme : 
These follow when we cross the second line 
Where playful spirits throw their shadows fine. 



SONNETS. 185 



LOVE SONNET. 



How doth thy flute-toned spirit modify 
All utterances o'erstrained that disappear 
Within the rose-rimmed orifice of thine ear ! 

Ah, how I long that instrument to try ! 

And blow the sounds of my humanity 
Into that artery of perfect song 
So feelingly, no heart's recurrent thong 

Be needed to give pulses or velocity. 

For every tone should have its central heart 
Of passion and omnipotence of flight : 
Then would I learn to touch each key aright, 

That there should issue forth but fair report 
(Jf regions dimmed for holy mysteries — 
For love, for music and mute ecstacies. 



186 SONNEl^S. 



TO 



I 
Thy worth adorneth my unworthiness, 
As flowers of loveUest dreams the steep 
Environs of the dark abyss of sleep. 
Thy love's bright lily, like a pure caress, 
Floats on the waters of my life's distress. 
And by the thread of thy true womanhood 
Is holden to the firmament of good 
Thereunder fixed ; whilst from its golden dress 
The winds of hate but smooth each petaly fold. 
O ! sacred flower, that wastest so thy sheen, 
By ever-watchful heavens art thou seen, 
And thought a star unrisen — unforetold, 

Whose august path, as yet unbuilt, shall rise 
From earth's low levels to the highest skies. 



SONNETS. 187 



TO 



II 
The day that riseth from her troubled bed 

Whereby the Night hath watched, seems not the same 

That last eve fell there like a quivering flame ; 
The sun himself an unfamiliar head 
Each morning shows, and when the mists have fled. 

Doth mint for me new worlds by all my ways, 

Fresh stamped forever with his changing rays — 
Wasting his wealth as heir to some sun dead — 

The song-birds lead each year an alien spring, 
Singing strange music of some unknown master 

But never friendly recognition bring ; 
But thou, O friend, in joy or in disaster. 

More steadfast art than birds or sun or day, 

And turnest an unchanging face alway. 



188 SONNE! S. 



TO 



What, sayest thou, would my Ufe be without thee ? 
'Twould be the sun's ray falling dark and chill ; 
A summer night that would no dew distil, 

Or summer morn with no bird melody ; 

An East that might sleep on impassively, 

While passed the unfellowed sun her close-shut gate, 
In solemn splendor and impressive state ; 

A sea that should not feel eternally 

A keeled foot or Morning's flashing skirts 
Upon her vacant and appalling floors. 
Nor ever cast a wave upon her hungry shores : 

A world where love is deadly, kindness hurts ; 

Waters wherein the swan doth sink, the lily drown. 
And flowerless fields that look forever brown. 



SLEEP'S STAINED GLASS. 



This seems the spot I laid me down upon ; 
There is the tree my eyes List idled with, 
Awaiting sleep. I think I must have dreamed. 

Sleep ! () wondrous silver coronal 

Of the dark- faced Fatigue ! Away ! Away ! 

1 would not wear the flashing circlet now, 
For all the dreams that ever gemmed it when 
It lightly lay on love's too-blessed head. 
Thou dost reveal too palpably and clear 

The weakness of this heart ; — too soon dost show 
The deep, dark hollows pitting what 1 thought 
The smooth and perfect sphere of Nature ; 
And with the raillery of demoniac souls, 
Dost point out all the rents which mar 
The garment of that life I thought so whole. 
What strange and throbbing sights I have beheld ! 
I would forget, but I am driven to recall. 

It seems to me that I lay watching the slow sun 
Arch his way downward mightily. 
When, suddenly, a dusky vapor rose 
And stood between us, and put slowly out 



190 SLEEP'S STAINED GLASS. 

Huge, shapeless and unpitying hands, which seized 

His slender rays and turned them back upon himself, 

Until their whetted flame tips did consume 

Him utterly ; and then the form dissolved, 

And, dissipate in finest dust, arose 

Towards the bare heavens, and did overspread 

Them like a film ; and all the heavens shrank 

As from the touch of drought. Thereat the stars 

Appeared, but all so changed I scarcely knew them ; 

And a new dread appalled me as I saw 

Their unfamiliar shapes ; and I beheld 

With awe that they no longer kept with fear 

The sacred level of the sky, but they 

Emerged and stood out boldly prominent ; 

And they did seem like palms and through the wide, 

Disparted branches, shaken by the swell 

Of their own swift expansion, gleamed their fair. 

Smooth, slender stalks, fast rooted in the deeps 

Of the Invisible. 

Then suddenly 
New energies burst violently forth 
Around me everywhere ] the earth assumed 
An altered motion and the trees, with cloven trunks 
Out-spread like wings, flew past me like huge falcons. 
My prostrate form was winnowed by the shocks 
Of an impassioned longing to partake 
The new delirium and pursue the fugitives. 



SLEEP'S STAINED GLASS. 191 

The blood went through my heart Uke knotted ropes, 

Flowing with strong, convulsive throbbings out 

To the swelled finger tips ; and painfully 

A drop oozed through the overstrained flesh 

And fell upon the ground. There as I gazed 

Upon it with dilated eyes, the bright. 

Red globule grew, respondent to the growing sight, 

And evenly, curve by curve, diffused itself 

Far round me over the denuded earth. 

Now smooth as glass ; till all was crimson stained. 

And slowly, fine dark lines, like veins, appeared ; 

And I then knew the mesh of all my life 

Had been concealed in that red drop and lay 

There awfully apparent ; and I closed 

My eyes in terror ; and confusion like 

A mist rose up within me and fulfilled 

My total being ; and the icy hand 

Of Fear moved through it and distilled it all 

In tears, which forced my lids apart and fell 

Most plenteously. 

But when I looked again, 
The red had vanished, and, instead, there lay 
A soft transparency upon the earth, 
Plating it over with a foil of pearl ; 
And looking down, far downward, through 
The vault immeasurable, I plainly saw 
The countless multitudes of all who had 



11)2 SLEEP'S STAINED GLASS. 

Been born upon the rim of earth, had died, 

And then been duly sepulchred within it : 

And all the distant phantoms ceased their weird. 

Mysterious movements, and in unison, 

Turned their wan faces towards me ; while a few 

Raised baneful, beckoning fingers, which aroused 

Such strong, convulsive struggles, such concussion 

Of the eternal, elemental Noes 

\\'ithin me, that I woke amid the din 

Of vast explosions, loud, reverberant, 

And found me lying here alive. 



MEMORY. 



A 1 RAOMKXl', 



Here let me rest within this ([uiet grove ! 

These trees, hke belted soldiers, shall keep watch 

Around me while I slee]). Oh, how this day's 

Hard up-and-down of feet, has shaken out 

All my crushed life's bright grains, througli double sieves, 

Upon the dusty road, leaving behind 

But husky coats of bran to fill the shrine 

Of sleep ! Oh, that a wind would rise, and blow 

It all away ere I awake ! 

(Spirits appear over the head of the sleeper, and move 
about in the performance of some mysterious function.) 

FIRST SPIRI'l . 

He sleeps too long ! 

He draws too near ! 
O sweetest singer of our throng, 

(io bend above his ear. 
And sing an earth-remembered song 

Of love, to hold him here. 



194 MEMOR V. 



SECOND SPIRIT. 



O great is the power of Sleep, 
And weary the toil of night ! 

Then only agile spirits weep ; 

For hands grow weary with solemn rite, 
From Sleep's broad door to keep the light, 
Where mortals lie with strained sight. 

THIRD SPIRIT. 

His eyes are beamless, 

But his sight is clear ; 
His sleep is dreamless. 

And he comes so near. 

swiftest spirit of our train 
Haste ! haste ! to the throned year ; 

And fall upon thy knees and cry, 
"O back into his soul again 
Send awful Memory !" 

Memory (approaching.) 

1 am the slow pursuer 

Of the rapid mind ; 
I am the quick renewer 

Of the undefined, 
Sweet image-lure, 

That flies to weave and wind. 

And backward bind 
Eyes still impure. 



MEMOR Y. 195 

(At the head of the sleeper) 
O Sleep 1 O umbrous clad ! 

O slumber-masked and fire-centered ! 
In vain I in vain thou lookest glad, 

For thou must lose what I have entered. 
Dost not already hear the thrill 
Of tensest wind and dangling rill, 

Within his heart? — 
Impassioned words of other days 
And remnants of etherial lays. 

To his lips start? 
In vain ! in vain I thou dost embrace him, . 
While Memory's dappled favors grace him. 
Disperse thy mists about his head '. 

Retake thy kisses from his brow ! 
Behold ! the spirits all have fled. 

And I flee now. 

Where was I when that gentle melody 

Blew, like a breeze, across the forest of my thought. 

And rustled so the dry, dropped leaves of fact, 

That the bright birds of present ecstasies 

Flew frightened from its branches? Oh, that 1 

Might find upon me the minutest clew ! 

How swiftly would I run to find that scene, 

Which left this throbbing heart — this burning head ! 

But wheresoe'er it be, though near or far. 

Right, left, or high or low, I doubt me not 

My face is turned from it away. My thoughts 



196 MEMORY. 

Lie in a draught that sucks them from the spot. 

The present and the near are as the dead ; 

Naught seems aUve, except the past — the old: 

Oh, I have drunk the liquor of some vine 

Which trailed o'er graves ! or sipped the witches' wine 

( )f wild grapes born and nurtured upon ruins ! 

Or History doth wander here to muse, 

And having found me as I lay asleep, 

Hath plunged her withered hands within the vase 

Of fresh, exuberant youth, and passed, by stealth, 

Them dripping over my closed eyes, to wake 

All aged and faded things to life, though age 

And blight and death wrinkle the sapped Present. 

My eyes are sunken in my head- -so far 

Contracted from their natural curves, they lie 

Below the level of the living day ; 

Yea ! on the bottom of the sea of vision ; 

And see the many sights long fallen there. 

But yet, there are no wrecks of olden scenes 

Strewing the silent floor of these strange depths ; 

Nothing is broken, ground or worn away, 

By the soft serges of the upper stress 

And beat of life ; all hath the same clear lines 

As when the sharp, sure blades of my young sight 

Carved them from Nature. Eff"ortless and free. 

My mind seems swimming in its first bright views; 

And all have beauty printed on them plain, 

Like the raised letters of the blind. 



THE UNEQUAL LOVERS. 



Hold thovi thy life more firmly, careless one ! 

It leaves thy hand too lightly, and too oft 

Doth play the truant to its sober nurse ; — 

Sitteth without the threshold of its rest 

Too often, in the eager sun of longing — ■ 

Hangeth on thy face, as ready, at a word, 

To leap into mine own and perish there. 

A little farther from me, dangerous girl ! 

Bind those strong, supple eyes or sit thou down 

That they may sooner tire, from lifting up 

Their glances. Set those lawless hands to hold 

Each other, lest their slender fingers braid 

Themselves with mine ; and silence those small feet 

Whose strokes upon the floor disclose the joints 

Of my hard-wrought resolve, and penetrate 

The feeble fabrication with their wedges. 

Leave thy heart only free for this sad hour ; 

Discharge its dangerous retinue of beauty ; 

For hearts alone can grasp and strive with pain, 

And I shall neetl thy young heart's help for mine. 

Thou art my ward ; and yet thy keeper needs 
Une key to guard thee safely from himself; — 



108 THE UNEQUAL LOVERS. 

The key of thy dibhke ; but thou dost wear 

It out of sight, and leavest never closed 

The doorway of my care, and in and out 

Pass freely, laughing at my fears ; yea ! oft 

Will seat thee in the warder's room and smile 

To see him try to fit his clumsy keys 

Of sternness to the useless lock. 

Did ever prisoner before so treat 

Gruff jailor? or a bold offender turn 

Sweet comrade of the offended in the act ? 

And yet thou sittest here, audacious one. 

Secure and confident, in this close room 

Of musty records, near the outer door 

Which opens on the careless multitude, 

And guardest it so fondly, that the dust 

Doth settle on the latch. So thou, within 

The violated chamber of my care. 

Art free ; and I am captive of thy sweet, 

Wild, wayward love. Alas ! what sacrifice. 

That the bright folds of love, too soon unrolled 

From thy fleet youthful heart, should ever float 

Upon my ruined towers ? But I must break 

The weather-weakened cord of my mistake, 

Which holds it, that it blow away, or like 

A gauzy stream cast' down from its high pinnacle 

Through all the fine dissections of the air. 

Be given back unto its elements. 

Yes, dear delinquent, we have been too much 



THE UNEQUAL LOVERS. 199 

Together ; thy clear spirit has been stilled 

Too often, in the hush of my calm thought ; 

So that thy head bends ever o'er its pools, 

To watch their pictured margins. Better far, 

That the unfathomed floods of thy soft hair 

Had drowned thy childish head in their pure deeps, 

Than it should trickle down thy drooping form 

xA.nd lie in little plashes on the floor. 

And when I lift thee up and stroke thy head, 

Drawing the scattered tresses back again 

Within their natural channels, thou dost look 

So calm and unsurprised at me, it seems 

My dark, old form had bounded all thy visions. 

But yet, I do believe implicitly. 

That thou hast never seen me rightly, child ; 

Thy looks have failed to reach me, being checked 

By some swift after- thought of tenderness ; 

Or the fine bow-curves of thine eager eyes 

Have quivered in the grasp of the heart, and let 

The loosened missiles fall upon the ground ; 

Or some soft, early words of mine, not shrunk 

And all misshapen by convention, must 

Have taken form of thine imaginings. 

And risen like a screen before me. Yes, 

At most thou knowest my form and lineaments. 

As one may know the letters of a word, 

Which loosen not the meaning which they clasp. 



200 THE UNEQUAL LOVERS. 

Gray hairs do not affright you and you say, 
" 'Tis but the underside of the leaf that turns 
And brightens in the sun." Alas ! my child, 
The winds of death have grasped the hidden branches, 
And do shake them threateningly. You smile each time 
I speak of wrinkles, and with haste insist, 
They are but "welcome crevices which show 
The gleam and gold within." This hard dry hand 
Would bruise thine own soft tender one. 
Holding it rigid like an iron glove ; — 
But you "would rub the metal till it shone 
And showed your smiling, happy face in it" ; or kiss 
The rugged thing and claim triumphantly, 
That "lips were feebler, softer things than hands, 
And yet the touch had never injured them.''' 
These arms that have been straightened and outstretched 
Through many years of stiff expectancy, — 
Could they be bended to the pliant curves 
Which rounded youth might rest in easily? 
Love would but warp their rigid muscles, girl ; — 
Could never make them flexible again. 
What, wilful, stubborn one, still unconvinced ? 
Still in your twilight blushes find the clue 
To speech, and say, that you have seen my arms 
"Cross over and enfold the spacious couch 
Of the breast, and could they not, with lesser strain, 
Meet midway and enclose one little sleeper?" 
No, dear, fallacious reasoner, ever wrong ! 



77//: UNEQUAL LOVERS. 201 

For they would tremble all so fearfully, 
That Sleep's veined onyx stones might soon be jarred 
From thy smooth brow and fall upon the floor, 
Breaking to frightful dreams ; then thou wouldst wake 
And moan and welter in thy tears till day. 

The Years that build upon our upright lives 
Their fatal stairs, until they reach the top, 
And tear away the banner-breath with scorn, 
Build ever on the front and openly ; 
And thou mayst see that they have mounted high — 
Already hang upon my breast, and make 
Me bend a little towards them ; — pardon ! child. 
This stoop doth bring thy lips so near mine own, 
I could not help but kiss them. 'Twas the Years 
I spoke of caused it. But if thou couldst climb 
With them, secure upon their frail supports. 
Such kiss were not a theme for penitence. 

Too late, thou camest, little loiterer. 
To build of fairy stuff the bridal room with me ! 
Thy fragile gems and dainty properties — 
How will they match the strong well-chiseled stone. 
Which I must lay with plumb-line in the walls? 
How will thy careless, discontinuous touch, 
Thy gleeful heapings of thy pretty toys 
And handful throwings on the trembling pile. 
Assist my steady cautious masonry? 
But if the odd, unlovely structure rose, 
Despite these sad discordancies of hand, 



202 THE UNEQUAL LOVERS. 

So high, it needed cover ; still the work 
Must stop from graver difference ; for / 
Could roof it only with the flat expanse 
Of split, disjointed memories, through which 
Oblivious rains would beat upon our heads; 
But thou wouldst take the flawless, perfect piece 
Of thine undamaged present, and wouldst dome 
The room luxuriously. Besides, there is 
The floor, my little, sweet incompetent; — 
What wise, ingenious plan canst thou devise. 
That we may jointly build the fitting floor? 
For I am footsore, weary and worn out. 
With treading on life's hard impossibilities. 
Its sharp conventions and discomfitures, 
And surging aspirations frozen stiff 
In early ridges, by some merciless cold 
Of quick heart-sickness, and so left to stand 
Like awful corrugations in the brow of Doubt. 
I have laid off my shoes and would acquaint 
My feet with softer ways, where God doth not 
So fend Himself with perils, wrap his truths 
In hard ungracious obstacles, but leaves 
The wondrous courses of His being all 
Unclosed before us. Better shod art thou. 
With wholesome energies which shield thy feet, 
And strong enthusiasms ringing loud 
Upon the flinty ways, and striking fire 
Of fine exhilaration every step. 



THE UNEQUAL LOVERS. 203 

Why, thou mighst lay the floors with piercing thorns, 

With upright needles or with adders' teeth. 

And dance upon them painlessly ; nor think. 

In thine invincible novitiate, 

Which turns them into liarmless, temperless bhides 

Of grass, what cruel, stubble fields they were 

To my bare feet. 

But say 'tis all accomplished, 
And we shut alone in that abode, 
Wouldst thou not seek thine oriel window soon. 
And stand there flinging forth thy voice with joy. 
Feeding the doves of fancy with thy song. 
And sketching faint thy morrows on the pane? 
Whilst I beside my western casement, grave, 
With ocean charts of yesterdays in hand. 
Would sit instructing Death's black eagles there. 
Too late, thou camest, O my torturer ! 
We both must travel many leagues before 
We cross that width of bridal room and meet 
With faces inward. No despairing leap, 
Nor violent clasping of unequal arms, 
Could now reduce the spice one little inch. 

How hath thy strange love grown, precocious reaper ? 
Can the waste fields of retrospect produce 
Such golden fruitage ? or the somber seeds 
Of actualities so compensate 
The gay, glad sower? But this is not love 



204 '1 HE UNEQUAL LOVERS. 

You gather, child. Nay, hear me patiently ; 

The seed of love is bright, like pearls, and hiied 

\Mth sparkling joys ; and it is flung by Hope, 

F^ar forward, as the sower sows, and sprouts 

And blossoms as it foils ; but the hard grains 

Thou scatterest were not taken from the keeps 

And crystal treasuries of lavish youth. 

But stolen from my granaries of sorrow. 

Alas ! the fruit they yield has not the glow 

And bloom of thine untarnished heart, but lies 

In thy bright hand all staled by trelnbling touches, 

Streaked by frecjuent tears, and withered by hot sighs. 

Hut thou hast been too long here, fellow- heart ; 
And now thou must go from me, for thy peace, 
To places that await thee, noble tasks 
That need thy little efforts, and to mirth 
That may not float on any voice save thine ; 
And thou must hasten, ere the shining trail 
Of one who goes before thee through this world, 
Shall fade away ; already doth the shade 
Of my hard rocks fall far along the way ; 
And thy young eyes have turned so oft with mine 
Upon the mighty outlines of my nearer goal, 
They may not seize and bind the broken lines 
And glimmering visibilities of thine. 

Continue silent, child, and serious ! 
Letting my thought glide through thy thoughtfulness, 



THE UNEQUAL LOVERS. 205 

To reach the flirthest turning-goal of doubt, 
And come back freely to thy confidence. 

Each age hath its own gifts and offices, 
In fixed relation to the rest of life — 
Man-life, or (lod-life, round it. Child with child 
Must join the margins of their separate joys. 
Or leave the ragged edges so they wound. 
Childhood alone doth have the sacred art 
Of ministering to the child ; — holdeth the clue 
To the near goods he needeth, or the power 
To help him lift and fit them to his heart. 
Youth only beat with youth can make the foil — 
The precious writing sheet, whereon the heavens pen 
Their holy formulas of happiness ; 
And man who strives alone with man, gains aught 
Of Cxod to demonstrate his victory. 
Hear this ! the separate parallels of strands 
Which make our song- life's noble instrument. 
Do lack a crossing, vibrant warp to bind 
The upper and the lower strings ; and thou. 
So far away from me in thy tense youth. 
Canst give but faint harmonic tones to-day 
To my hard-smitten age so soon to break. 

There is another meaning, earnest one, 
In our fixed places here which touches, too. 
Our places elsewhere ; for it seems 
We measure here with careful, accurate hand 



20G THE UNEQUAL LOVERS. 

The flight we take hereafter from death's perch. 
With life's first motions we draw slowly forth 
From some dim, ductile mass of precious ore, 
A golden thread, and wind unceasingly, 
In even coils, and hold them on our arms ; 
Death but unwinds the thread and leaves us tlizzy 
Where it ends. So thou must run to work. 
And draw with swiftness, till the gathered loops 
Equal mine own ; for look thou at thine arm 
So nearly empty, — all thou hast secured 
Could scarcely serve thee for a wedding ring. 

But wheiTthou goest from me, I shall lose 
Of precious things far more than I can count 
Upon the failing finger-tips of speech. 
My wondrous gains in thee have all been scored 
Upon the luminous pages of thy presence ; 
Naught that's prepared for writing, is so broad 
As that, or offers room, at best, for more 
Than title page of name and arabesque of smile 
Y ox finis to it. Absence hath no sage 
Arithmetic to sum my losses by ; 
And leaves me but a little book to print 
Thy changeful image in. Let me but read 
Some first lines only of the wondrous volume, 
Ere thou dost close it with thy parting look. 

Here find I written with a trembling hand, 
"The low, sweet song before the evening prayer;"- 



THE UNEQUAL LOVERS. : 

My prayer shall find less pleasing company 

In sighs and groans. And here I find inscribed : 

"The light which leadeth to my darkened room ;" — 

But I must grope my way there now alone ; 

And here, "The airy bridge of dreams between 

My morrow and my yesterday, o'er which 

I draw, in calm, untroubled happiness, 

The captive chain of all my past delights ;" — 

Why, they must swim in floods of sleeplessness, 

Or stay behind. But stay ! these literal forms 

Are much too strong for my frail sight and break 

The shafts of vision into vexing parts. 

That, dropping, blind me with their rapid lights, 

Leaving my brain confused. So let me close 

The eyes to meditate, and read the rest 

From the raised letters of thy vivid hand. 

There ! that is better, child, and I proceed. 

The hooks of thought we fling into the deep 

Of unknown things, were long worn smooth with me. 

And gathered nothing, when thou camest here 

To barb them over with thy curious words. 

And aid my feeble hand to draw them often forth. 

To view the chance entanglements upon them. 

But when thou goest from me, I shall walk 

The turfless shore alone, and drag behind, 

Through empty waters, those appendages, 

Weary and praying for the rope of days 

To drop apart, that I may fall and rest. 



208 THE UNEQUAL LOVERS. 

And there are beings who he down with us at night, 
Who shimber longer than the weary frame ;— 
Spirits that fill the eye and move the hand, 
And urge the heart into a quicker pace ; 
Eternal Beauty, Aspiration, Hope ; — 
They will not waken at the harsh complaint 
And heavy voice of age, obscurely heard, 
Like the accustomed rumble of the street ; 
But one must come and whisper tenderly, 
Touching to motion the light wheels of the ear, 
With the fine draft of music, — loading up 
The spirit with the lure of morning ecstasy 
And sweetest utterance, and quickening 
The drowsy lids with silken whips of eyes 
That play above them. 

Thou shalt elsewhere be. 
Some morning when I rise, alone, to meet 
The day without these fairy ministrants. 
I, who have stroked thy pleasant, loosened hair, 
Until the hidden shuttle of the touch 
Did weave its fluctuant flosses into cloth 
Of floating gold, must grasp the slippery threads 
Of incoherent energies to work 
Them, somehow, into decent burial clothes. 
These eyes that have so often lain at ease. 
Within the peaceful Saturn-rings of thine, 
To intercept thine own bright visionings, 



THE UNEQUAL LOVERS. 20!) 

Must early feel Death buckle up the lids 
And press the lingering light out ruthlessly. 



Thou weepest, but 'tis less from thine own pain 
Than from thy sympathy with mine. 
Ah, child, 'tis pleasing to dispute the point 
With thee, and I am happy that to-day 
Thou thinkest it is peace, to hold thy place 
Of cramped and painful attitude and poise 
Of labored equilibrium upon 
The harsh projections of my shattered walls ; 
But the relief of pliant muscles, ease 
Of unstrained wishes and the liberal grace 
Of natural actions led by aptitudes, 
Shall safe receive thee in their gentle arms, 
When thou dost loose thy hold about my neck, 
And fall upon the lower, broader ground 
Of youthful fellowship. There thou shalt find 
Creatures with fine, smooth, tender hands like thine. 
Whose clasp shall be love's sure cohesiveness, 
Not the false holdings of my roughened ones 
Which caught the fluttering fabric of thy youth 
Upon their bramble touches. There thy feet 
Shall don the holy shoon of pure Love's footprints, 
.\s she guideth thee along the doubtful way 
To perfect treasures stored for thee by Heaven, 
In open coffers of supreme embraces, 



210 THE UXEQUAL LOVERS. 

(Jr beneath dark stones of sad experience. 

But thou must never cease to follow her, 

Nor ever fail to put thy willing feet 

Exactly in the traces of her own, 

Until thou gainest so the fashion of her step. 

That the hard earth shall soften under thee. 

And thou shalt set thy fingers only where 

Love's cunning hand hath made a place for them. 

And lined it with the blessing of her smile. 

Yet fear to be too eager in pursuit. 

Or play too fast thine mimicries ; 

But follow leisurely the thoughtful way, 

Leaving each object with a solemn joy, 

And looking often back regretfully. 

Be not afraid to rest, to lie thee down, 

Aye, close the eyes and sleep ; thou shalt not lose 

One line of progress in the longest dream ; 

For love shall stoop and take thee in her arms 

And carry thee till morning — harken ! child — 

When thou mayst wake to find me bending over thee. 

Yes, little weeper, thou shalt come again 

To me, and I shall claim thee though my right 

Be challenged by the highest Lords of Heaven. 

Thou art mine own to-day ; shall one pretend 

That there is law to void my ownership, 

Until I waive my legal titles ? What ! 

Because I send thee out to play an hour. 

To scatter song and gather fragrancies ; 



THE UNEQUAL LOl'ERS. 211 

To Stoop o'er dazzled, blinded flowers and make 

The sunlight visible : to run beside 

Some lonely stream to keep it company, 

Or throw thy moving, pliant image on 

The silent pools aweary with their fixed 

Tenacious grasp of moveless shadows there ; — 

Do I bestow thee on the natural world, 

And thus abandon mine own equities ? 

No ! sweetest chattle of my heart's estate 

And best possession of my future, No ! 

Thou dost remain mine own immortal property ; 

Mine ! by the strong preemption of the soul ; 

Mine ! by a clear, divine investiture ; 

Mine ! by the desperate struggles of the mind 

To break the barriers ot the hands and lips. 

And gain the perfect, interfusing touch 

Of the full, liberal life of Heaven ; and mine ! 

By my supreme and sacred poverty 

'Fore God and awful emptiness of hand. 

Though all the Hierarchs of Heaven stand 

Opposing, and God's august magistrates 

Lend their commissions to the infamy, 

I would protest against the deed so forcibly. 

And make such clamor at the false decree, 

That holy angels should grow pale in fear — 

Should fall upon their knees and pray in whispers. 

Go now, my child, contend with weaker hearts 
Than mine, in love and loving exercise ; 



212 THE UNEQUAL LOVERS. 

Strengthen thyself with thought, and teach thine eyes 

To find the weakness of thine adversary's ; 

Constrain thy spirit to a dart and hurl 

The missile 'gainst the thickened rind of the world 

And break it open ; tutor thy weak hands 

Till iron seemeth soft and thou canst twist 

The lightnings round thy fingers, like a curl 

Of thy bright hair ; — then come again to me, 

And we shall make a pair whom God is proud of. 



